


Blood That Binds

by Enailaim (ChristineNighting)



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Angst, Antoinetta's Garlic, Bloodplay, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Murder, Night Mother, Purification, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sithis - Freeform, Smut, The Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Torture, Vampirism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:56:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 70,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineNighting/pseuds/Enailaim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{Now improved and updated in a new version - See 'Fear Not The Night'} From innocent farm girl to a murderer, Zaris finds herself tossed into a new family as she finds a way to free herself from her old life. However, is becoming the Silencer for Lucien Lachance and falling in love with a 300 year old vampire really as liberating as she thinks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liberation

**WARNING: This chapter contains some forms of non-con. If this bothers you, then you are free to leave.**

The sun beats down on my neck as I gather the eggs from the chickens my family owns. They peck at my legs through my old dress, though I don't mind really because they're just chickens; they don't understand the complex emotions that humans go through or even the trivial annoyance of having one's legs pecked at.

I pat one on the back, only to get a harsh peck at my wrist. The wound swells slightly with blood and I give it a glance before wiping it on the underside of the hem of the raggedy dress and pressing the cut against my tongue, hoping to stop the bleeding. It's one of those things I've done since I was little – you suck on a cut, and it stops bleeding. Though I'm just a farm girl really, not some fancy scholar, so I couldn't really tell you why it does that.

I wait a few minutes against the wall of the house before checking the small gash. A few squeezes around my wrist to see if it's still bleeding disproves my suspicion and I gather the rest of the eggs, happily humming a little ditty I learned as a child.

I exit the chicken coop and tie the twine around the fence and the gate to keep it from opening. Carrying the basket inside, I set it next to my mother.

She smiles at me before looking me over. "Oh, you're a mess! We need to clean you up before Tristeran gets here. After all, he is courting the most beautiful lady in all of Tamriel." She sweeps a finger down my cheek before attempting to run her hands through my wavy red locks. It didn't really work so well; her hands got stuck in the wild mane I refused to brush.

She frowned. "When was the last time you brushed your hair?" I shrug.

"You're a mess. Well, go put on your dress clothes then we'll see what we can do for your hair." I nod to her and head into my room. My truck is pressed up against my bed and I open it, reaching to the bottom where my nice clothes lie wrapped up in an old animal skin. The light green and white cotton rimmed with lace is soiled in a few spots with light stains, though it's the best thing I have. I change into it and tie the bow in back before heading back out to my mother.

"Awww, aren't you lovely?" I frown, slightly uncomfortable with the excessive attention directed at me. Motioning towards me, my mother behinds carefully picking through the knotted red strands until a horse trots up outside.

"That's him! Now you remember your manners, right?" I sigh and nod. A knock at the door leaves my mother nearly falling over herself and I reach up and run a hand through my hair, now tangle-free.

"Hello, Tristeran," I greet calmly as he stands in the doorway. His face is smudged with dirt in places and he easily stands several inches above me. He looks down on me and his eyes run up and down my body. A slightly uncomfortable feeling enters my stomach and I swallow hard.

"Hello, Zarissis." My name sounds like a plague on his tongue, at least to me, and I wince slightly. Zarissis is not a very Breton name; instead, my mother insisted giving me a name she felt had some Redguard origins, though I'm not exactly sure why. Most people just call me Zaris, as it's shorter. "Are you ready?"

I nod my head. Tristeran plans to take me for a nice-cooked meal at the tavern, not the nicest place in Cyrodiil, but they certainly have good food that a farm girl couldn't afford to buy on her own.

I'm not allowing him to court me out of choice; rather, my family arranged it with his, as I'm an "eligible young maid", as my father said. More than eligible, apparently, as he says most girls get married at sixteen, or even before, and I'm now nineteen. I don't feel nineteen. I feel like a child still, though my life has been rather sheltered. The only time I've seen the real world is in the old books I've read and dog-eared until the pages are worn and falling out and the binding has cracked open.

Something about Tristeran makes me uncomfortable. He may tower over me, but he's always polite and charming to those who talk to him.

He offers me his arm, and I take it. I wave to my mother as we leave and she gushes over him and me and how cute we look.

The tavern is just in town; it's not a real big deal for anyone to enter it. Men and women go there to get a drink and possibly a meal after a long day of work. Often people will enter to play games. A child or two sometimes is even socially acceptable, simply because they enter looking for the parents who are resting. When we enter, a few people smile at us in greeting, and we take a seat near the back away from the loud ruckus of gossip and story-telling.

"You're beautiful as always, Lady Zaris." He smiles at me and I feel uneasy.

"I'm not a lady." I wrinkle my nose and take a sip of the wine he bought. "This is vile!" I gag slightly.

"What, never had some alcohol? I suggest you drink up then." He lifts up his own mug, which contains mead, and takes a swig. He leaves temporarily to request a hot meal and pays, then comes and sits back down.

I pretend to take sips of my wine, which appeases Tristeran. He continues to talk, mostly about his hunting expeditions with his father and which animals he slaughtered. That's pretty normal for a town, so I zone him out, nodding in all the right places. His voice steadily gets louder the more he drinks, though it isn't any different from anyone else. I sort of realize how everybody around me does all the same things, every day, and they all act pretty similar. I can't imagine myself harvesting eggs from chickens for the rest of my life. I need…excitement.

A kind tavern lady brings us the hot meal and I gasp. "You bought me _salmon?_ " We may live somewhat close to the Niben River, but salmon is still a delicacy. I dig in with enthusiasm, and Tristeran laughs.

"Don't eat it too quickly, you'll make yourself sick." As we eat, his conversation turns more playful as he makes jokes about working as a farm boy and getting to court beautiful _women_ (notice the emphasis he places on that word) such as myself. I end up blushing furiously.

"You sure look darn cute when you're all red like that, especially with your freckles." I bite my lip and smile, the compliment still pretty foreign. I end up drinking a little bit of my wine while I eat, and soon enough the red coloring in my cheeks stays there. I feel giddy and happy, though I know not why.

We finish our meal and I end up talking about the farm and my family, and then the books I read.

"It's probably getting dark. Perhaps I should be getting home?" I'm actually certain it is dark, but it's still more polite than demanding to be walked home.

"Sure," he stands up relatively easy and I dimly wonder how he's managing to stay on his feet after the several tankards of mead. I feel kind of tired.

We leave, my arm in his. It's already dark out and the stars twinkle above. Tristeran turns to face me and I stop, confused by the sudden change.

"I bought something for you when I went into town last week, but I left it at my house. Would you mind coming with me to the door real quick so I can grab it?" His face is kind and gentle, so I nod, despite the warning bells in my head going off. It's just to his door.

Tristeran and I begin walking the other way to his small shack which he owns and lives alone in while he works on his family's farm. The streets are pretty deserted as everyone has entered their homes for the night. His home is on the edge of town as all the main families settled first, and then everyone else who needed a home began building around it. None of the other homes face his and I feel that I should be slightly alarmed that we're alone, in the dark, away from anybody, but I don't.

"Stay here," he commands, and I wait by the wooden door as he runs inside real quick.

Several minutes pass and no Tristeran. Finally, I hear him shout and swear from within the house.

"Tristeran?" My voice sounds awfully small as I push open the door. He shouts for help within the other room and I run in to see him holding a bloody rag over his hand.

"I just cut myself on this fishing line while I was trying to get your gift. I'm sorry," I walk over and go to look at his hand, but he pulls it away from me.

"Over there, in that drawer, can you get me a healing potion?" I nod and look to where he's motioning with his head. I'm in his bedroom, but the thought doesn't really trigger until I approach the nightstand to open said drawer.

Grabbing the knob, I pull it open. A flat emptiness greets me, and I turn around just as the door to his room slams shut. The bloody rag is abandoned on the floor and I notice his hand was never really cut at all.

"You actually fell for that, did you? So kind." He maintains his polite appearance but panic threatens to bubble through my throat.

"What are you doing?" I choke out, backing up into a wall. He slowly advances, a threatening look in his eyes, like a hunter hunting his prey. I swallow hard.

"Lay with me, Zarissis. You are so beautiful." My eyes widen and I attempt to dart past him and through the door, but he seizes me by my hair. "So that's a no? What a shame. You were quite charming." He shoves me into a wall and I cry out. One hand hits me hard in the face and I shout.

Tears begin falling down my cheeks, though I hardly notice it. He wraps one hand around my throat and holds me in place while he runs a hand up my shirt. I glare profusely at him. I wish I had a knife or a dagger or some sort of sharp object; I feel defenseless and I hate it. I want to be strong and empowered so this can't happen.

He pulls my head back and crams his mouth onto mine. I shout out, but it's lost to his lips. I reach up and claw at his face. Suddenly he pulls back and seizes my neck, pushing me hard onto his bed. I cry out and try to get away but then he's on top of me. I struggle against him as he pulls my clothes off roughly. He nearly rips my hair out of my head as I claw at him with my nails, but it's too late. My dress lands somewhere on the ground and I feel exposed and vulnerable. I pull back my arm and punch him in the face, though I don't hit hard. He growls and shoves my wrist backwards.

"You will not refuse me." A flick of something shiny catches my eye and he moves his hand from my wrist to my mouth before I can scream. He sits on top of my hips and thighs, preventing me from moving.

"You belong to me. You will be my wife." Tristeran grins cruelly and the tip of the knife slides into the skin under my bra strap over my ribs, slicing it neatly. I howl with pain and struggle against him, but he holds me down. Tears stream out of my eyes and I beg for him to stop, but it's lost against his hand.

The sharp knife leaves parallel lines down my ribs on the left side and I shudder in pain, everything in my mind screaming and fighting. I wish I he was dead.

He tosses the knife to the side and laughs. "Aren't you a pretty thing now?" I glare at him, but the look only makes him laugh harder. He releases one hand to begin unbuttoning his pants.

I glance down to where the bloody knife is on the bed. This is my one chance, or I'll be violated by this man. I seize the knife and drive it into his chest. A look of surprise flashes in his face, but the kill is neat and he goes limp on top of me. I push him off and pull the knife from his chest before driving it in again and again, the entire time crying. I let the knife go and climb off the bed, backing into the wall.

I don't think anything for several minutes, just stand there dumbstruck. I _killed_ a man. I've never dreamed of killing anyone in my life.

Oh crap! It's probably really late and my parents will be mad at me and now I've killed someone. Fresh tears fall down my cheeks.

 _Think_ , Zaris, think! I quickly grab a fur on his bed and wipe the rest of the blood off my chest and where it dripped onto my stomach. I grab the blood-stained rag on the floor and hold it to my chest, hoping to stop the bleeding.

If anyone in town finds out I killed him, I'll be doomed. This needs to look like an accident…or not by me. A lot of people saw me with him tonight. _Think!_

Quickly, I come up with a solution. I run back into the main room of his house and find a piece of parchment and a quill and ink. Using the messiest handwriting I can manage, something that looks similar to his, I write the words, _I'm sorry, Zarissis._ I run back into his room, place the note on the table next to his bed, then lift his limp hand and place it around the dagger. I reposition the bloody furs around him so it looks like the blood came from his own wound and not from somebody else, like me. Then I grab my own clothes off the floor and quickly dress, a mechanical motion as my mind is still reeling from fear. I try to smooth out my hair before leaving his house.

The streets outside are dark and everything is quiet. I walk in the shadows to my house, my heart pounding in my ears. I'm _terrified_ somebody will follow me.

As I'm about to turn a corner, I get an overwhelming feeling that I'm being watched. I turn around and scan my eyes through the dark, but I don't see anything. The feeling stays, and I think it's probably best to rush home.

I count to ten, trying to steady my heartbeat, before I enter the small house.

My mother sits sewing in a rocking chair. She looks surprised as I enter.

"You're back early. Tristeran didn't promise you home for another hour. How was it?" Her smile and statement send a wave of relief through me, but then I process the question. Do I tell her he tried to violate me? Do I tell her I _killed_ him?

No. I can't tell her that. I lie instead, putting on my best acting face, the kind I use when I'm caught doing something wrong.

"It was fun. We talked and stuff and he bought me salmon." I smile at her and she raises an eyebrow.

"You look like you've done something wrong." Panic shoots through me again and I laugh nervously.

"He kissed you, didn't he?" Her eyes light up and she laughs. "Honey, that's not a bad thing." She winks at me before studying me for a second.

"You look like you've had a long day. Maybe you should go to bed." I nod my head at this and yawn. It's then that I realize in the morning they might know he's dead. I should probably fuel the lie.

I run my hands through my hair nervously, though mostly for show. "Mom…I think I'm falling in love with him. He's a _really_ nice guy." My insides reel, though I don't let it show in my face.

She smiles. "I know. Good night, darling." She stands up and kisses me before pulling me into a hug. "You're growing up so fast." She smiles as she releases me, and I walk to my room.

Once inside, I close the door and pull of my nice clothes. It seems as though my undergarments caught the rest of the blood, leaving my nice clothes impressively unscathed. I glare at them and shove them into my chest. The slight amount of alcohol in my system makes me tired, and I pull on a nightdress after inspecting the scabs forming on my body.

I turn over with my face towards the wall as I contemplate what happened today. I killed Tristeran, yes…but I felt strong for the first time in my life. I felt like _I_ had the power to decide my fate. I know I should feel worse about it, but killing him made me feel justified. I know they'll buy his fake suicide I set up. I've been tagged as the nice girl in our town, they won't ever suspect me. With this, I fall asleep, feeling slightly better about myself. The darkness takes hold, and I don't feel any regret, despite the act I committed.

"You sleep rather soundly…for a _murderer._ " The voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin and I'm gripping the bed furs to my chest as I face a man sitting in the chair across from me, robed completely in black.

"Get out or I'll call the guards." My voice is firm, and I admire that change. However, the man only laughs darkly.

"Go ahead and try, I'll just tell them how you stabbed poor Tristeran to death." He smirks at me and I gasp. Horror grips my body and I'm shocked for a moment before realizing my mom is in the other room.

"Someone will hear you." I hold the bed furs tighter against me. This man is in my room and he knows I killed someone, and that scares me.

"No they won't. I put a silencing charm on this room." He laughs again and leans over, elbows on his knees, dark brown eyes inspecting me curiously.

I reach under my pillow and grab an iron dagger I've kept there in case someone broke in. "I've killed once, I can do it again." My voice is steady and I narrow my eyes at him.

The cloaked man's eyes light up. "Yes, yes you can. Poor Tristeran just didn't know what he had coming, and well, you don't seem to be mourning his passing too much. That's good, you'll need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose." He stands up and I hold the dagger tightly in my fist.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Now, there's really no need for that. I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood."

"I know what the Dark Brotherhood is. They kill people for money." My voice is barely a whisper, and Lucien smiles.

"Yes, and you are a killer. Your work…pleases the Night Mother." He leans against the wall a few feet away from me. "I come to you with an offering, an opportunity. Join our ranks, become a member of our…unique family." He smiles now, with teeth, and I can see the murder in his eyes. This man has taken many lives and hasn't felt a single ounce of remorse.

I shake my head and open my mouth to deny him, but Lucien's voice cuts over mine. "Before you refuse me, I want you to think hard. Think about how weak you felt, when he was torturing you, and how liberating it was to kill him. I can make you strong and empowered. Men wouldn't _dare_ to touch you." His silky, deep voice brings back the memory of earlier. I look at the dagger in my hand.

I'm nobody, just a farm girl, and the farm is my home…right? Though, I felt stronger than I ever had. I won, he lost. The two dueling arguments play out in my head and Lucien Lachance waits patiently, studying the expressions as they cross my face.

No, I'm meant to get married, have lots of children, harvest eggs and milk cows, like any good girl does. I'm meant to please my family.

The other argument fights back. I killed Tristeran. I liked it. If I were to…accept…I'd have adventures like I always dream about. I'd be free, each day would be new…I'd never have to worry about a man trying to take something from me, or anyone for that matter. I could control their lives, I could be the master of my own destiny.

I stare down at the dagger in my hand and my head clears up, slight tears coming to my eyes, though I blink them away.

"What do I have to do?" I look up to see a look of approval on Lucien's face. Seeing him look at me like that almost makes me _want_ to try to please him. It's been a while since someone's been proud of me for something.

"Listen carefully. On the green road to the North of Braviil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

"Isn't it kind of creepy that you like to sneak up on people while they sleep?" The lack of sleep causes the thought to burst from my mouth, and I turn bright red.

Lucien looks amused. "Perhaps," is all he says, then he waits for me to respond to his offer.

I'll have a new family, I'll be free. "Yes, I'll do it." I glance again at the dagger in my hand.

"Excellent." The word rolls off his tongue in an almost musical quality, then he slowly steps forward, in a very non-threatening way, and grabs my hand. Turning it over, he pulls the iron dagger from my hand and instead places a beautiful, sharp curved dagger with dark, polished metal and a red leather hilt.

"Please accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is…a _virgin_ blade, and it thirsts for blood." His emphasis on the word makes me narrow my eyes at him, and again Lucien looks amused. His expression reveals that he clearly intended to compare me to the dagger now in my hand, which is probably why he gave it to me.

"Thank you. It's beautiful." I run a finger over the blade, careful not to cut myself. He nods at me.

"I bid you farewell, _Lady_ Zarissis." I jump at the use of the word and he smiles devilishly.

"Wait! I have a question!" He lifts his head slightly and keeps his gaze locked on me.

"You have my full attention."

I bite my lip, unsure of how to ask this. "How…do you know about what happened? Did you…watch me? Was that you following me?"

He raises a hand to silence me. "The Dark Brotherhood has its ways." With that, he pushes up off the wall and approaches the doorway. Right before he is about to exit, he turns around to face me slightly.

"…Yes, I watched you." With that he disappears entirely, leaving me holding a blade and questioning his intentions. Will I really kill this guy named Rufio? Then I blush when I realize what Lucien meant by _watched me_. He saw me undressed…and hurt. He saw me kill…Where was he at that he saw this?

The thought leaves me uneasy, but I still know what I _want_ to do. In the morning there will be guards everywhere…my parents surely won't let me leave. Is this what I want?

Yes. This is what I want. I want to grow up, see the world, and be able to choose my own path.

I lay down in bed as a plan forms in my mind. Tomorrow I'll be here, to assure them that it was a murder…then that night, I'll leave a note, saying I'm sorry, and I'll run.

This is absolutely crazy, but maybe I'm crazy.


	2. Sanguine, My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris goes to kill Rufio and Lucien watches her bathe.

I open my eyes to my empty bedroom. It feels like a dream, seeing Lucien Lachance there last night. I stick my hand under my pillow and pull out the shiny, dark dagger. The Blade of Woe glitters in the light and reminds me that it wasn't a dream at all. Yesterday I killed Tristeran and soon I'll be leaving this town for good.

I sigh. I love my family, especially my mom, and this is going to be hard…but I can't just keep living like nothing happened. Tristeran tortured me and tried to lay with me, so I killed him. If I stay, I'll have to spend the rest of my life lying to those around me. My parents will likely try to marry me off to a man I don't love who might attempt to take advantage of me.

Under the bed furs, I lift up my nightgown and run a hand over the slices of skin, now scabbing over. I flinch with pain and push the furs down slightly to look at the wound.

Five parallel cuts run down my left side, crusty with blood. They're bright red around the edges and badly swollen. Where my hand touched them, they burn like fire. I grit my teeth and lower my nightgown before pulling the furs back up.

I know I should feel bad, that I should feel traumatized if nothing more, but I don't. He hurt me and I was scared, so I killed him. I don't feel bad about it, and it scares me. Am I supposed to feel this way?

I think back to what I read about the Dark Brotherhood. They worship a deity known as the Night Mother…and Sithis who dwells in the Void. What is the Void? Is it a black emptiness, or a paradise to those who serve him?

Footsteps cross into the main room and I listen as someone knocks on the door. I pretend to be asleep, lying still as I listen carefully.

"Is your daughter Zarissis at home?" A guard's rough voice says.

"She's sleeping. What's the matter?" That's my dad.

"Tristeran Gaering was found dead in his house this morning. He killed himself and left this note for your daughter." A moment of silence fills the air, and I can almost imagine my father's dumbstruck look. So they bought it, then? Wonderful.

"He's…dead?" I have to strain to hear the words, as my father whispers them so quietly. The guard doesn't say anything.

"We understand your daughter was being courted by him. Please give her our condolences, the sweet girl. It was clear she cared about him very dearly." I bite back a smile. Being the nice, innocent little girl for so many years has helped me, and I'm glad. I must be a really good actress, better than I thought, if they really think I cared dearly about him. Even before he tried to….I never liked him.

The guard leaves and the door closes. My dad stands in the doorway for a second before I hear footsteps heading my way. I quickly turn over and face the wall, my primary sleeping position, and slow my breathing.

"Zaris?" His voice is soft as he enters. He crosses to my bed and runs a hand over my head. Leaving here…leaving my family is going to kill them. They may never forgive me…but I must do it.

"Mmmm?" I say, trying to sound tired. I roll over and stretch. He sits on the bed and looks at me with sad eyes.

"What?" I say, furrowing my brow.

"I have something to tell you. It's Tristeran…he's dead." My mother goes to stand in the doorway of my room as my dad quietly says the words. I try to play along.

"What?" I say, distress pushing into my voice.

"He killed himself…and left this note to you." My dad hands me the note and I take it, trying to make my hand shake. With as much emotion as I can muster, I unfold the parchment and gaze at the words I wrote.

"No," I whisper and try to think about what he did to me. I think of the pain and leaving my family, and tears being forming in my eyes. Perfect.

"No, oh Arkay no!" I shout and the tears stream down my face. My parents watch sadly on, and I put my face in my hands.

My mother comes to hold me while I cry, though not for the reasons they think. I sit like that for hours, in my nightgown wrapped in her arms for the last time. She takes a brush and runs it through my hair, and I cry all of my last regrets. This is my fate, and in my head I pray to the Divines. Mara, thank you for my parents. Stendarr, protect them when I can't. Akatosh, forgive me.

Sithis, I give myself to you.

* * *

That night I stand in my room and carefully tread across the floor as I get everything I'll need. A burlap sack sits on my bed as I pack a few dresses and under things, including my nice clothes in case I need them. I stick an apple and a leatherskin for water into the bag, then I lift a couple of my favourite books, including _Mystery of Talara: Part I_ ; _The Wolf Queen, Book 4_ ; _Immortal Blood_ (I told my mother it was about vampires and she rolled her eyes and told me that vampires don't exist, but I don't believe her); _Song of Hrormir;_ and _Sacred Witness_. The last book had to be kept hidden from my parents, for it was about the Dark Brotherhood, and they wouldn't approve. I bought it in a store with some extra gold I had several years ago.

My mother has some herbs, though I don't know what they are, so I carefully wrap them in a piece of linen and stick them on the top of the pile. I tie my coin purse to my dress, right around my hips. I grab a piece of parchment and write a note to my parents.

_I'm sorry about this, but I have to go. I can't stay here any longer. I love you, do not look for me. You'll see me again one day._

_Xoxo, Zarissis_

I fold the note and place it on my bed, which I neatly made up, the furs smoothed out. With one last glance at the room I spent my life sleeping in, I leave the room, open the front door and quietly step out, shutting the door behind me.

I walk to our stables and put the reins on my horse, who just snorts. I tie my bag to his gray pelt and ride to the edge of town.

I stand facing the forest and the road ahead, Dusty's hooves between the future and the past. Just as I'm about to look back, that feeling falls over me again, like I'm being watched. I hold the reins tight in my hands, dig my heels into Dusty's back, and ride into the night. I don't look back.

The night passes us as we gallop over the road. Only good can come from this point forward. The Dark Brotherhood is my life now. I need freedom, and they can give it to me.

A couple hours later I see the dim glow of an inn ahead. I pull Dusty into the stables and tie him up with one other horse occupant before untying my bag.

I check into the Imperial Bridge Inn, paying ten gold for a room. The innkeeper Davela rents me a bed upstairs in the attic. Luckily, tonight I sleep in the room alone. Still, I keep all of my belongings tied to my person and stay fully dressed while I still sleep.

Despite exhaustion, my mind is racing and it takes a while to fall asleep.

* * *

That morning I buy some water to fill my leather skin and a loaf of fresh bread before retrieving Dusty. The stable boy fed and brushed him earlier that morning, so when we left he was nearly prancing. I giggle and rub his pelt while eating pieces of bread.

We gallop north towards where the road will turn towards the Imperial City, stopping in intervals so Dusty can rest. At around twelve o'clock, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, we finally pass into the Imperial district and start heading south.

After another hour or two, the Inn of Ill Omen pops into sight. It's a sorry-looking building, and I can see why it has the name it does. It does, in fact, look like the perfect place to kill somebody.

Again I go through the process of tying Dusty up. After such a long run, he seems pretty content to be in a stable to rest. I remove my belongings and hesitantly push open the door to the inn.

A man behind the counter jumps, as though he is surprised to see me. Much to my vexation, an Imperial soldier is sitting at the bar having a drink. The last thing I need is a guard around while I'm trying to murder somebody.

"What brings a traveler like you here?" He looks me up and down and I wonder why I always get this reaction from men.

I can't tell the truth, so I make something up. "My sister, she's ill. I've been travelling for days, I just need to rest." I try to look as tired as I can, and he buys it.

"Well, uh, I've got plenty of beds if you'd like to rent one!" He can't contain his happiness at having a customer.

I smile, but then I falter, continuing my act. I motion for him to lean in close and I lower my voice to a whisper. "Who else is staying at this inn? It's just not really safe for a young maid like me to be all alone in an inn filled with men." I bite my lip and try to look scared.

The innkeeper smiles softly and whispers back. "There's no need to fear, my lady. Only two occupants plus I are here: the Imperial soldier right over there, but he's harmless, and an old codger that lives downstairs in what I like to call the Private Quarters. Been here for a couple of weeks, but he usually never comes out. Not that I mind, he pays his tab." The innkeeper pauses for a moment. "I'm Manheim, by the way." He nods to me and smiles again. I feel some pity for the man, apparently single and running an inn that barely has any people in it.

I know I can't give him my real name, so I make one up. "My name is Jyllia." It is the name of one of the women in _The Wolf Queen_ , though I hope Manheim doesn't read much.

"Nice to meet you, Jyllia." He smiles, apparent unaware of the name's origin. Manheim then remembers I want a bed. He turns red and stumbles over his words. "Ah, yes, a bed, that's right. Uhh, there's one upstairs, first door on your left. Costs ten gold."

I fish into my coin purse and pull the septims out, handing them to him. "It's yours."

To maintain appearances, I yawn before walking up the stairs and to my room. I close the door and place my bags on the floor next to my bedroll. It's still much too early to go snooping around, so I lie on the roll and plan out my attack.

I'll sneak into his room during the night…and then I'll stab him? No, I'll cut his throat open. It shouldn't be too hard, similar to beheading a chicken or bleeding a piece of game after a hunt. I should probably use a piece of linen or a sheet though to keep the blood splatters off me. But once again, I need an alibi. When he is found dead, I need a reason for it to not be me. I contemplate this issue for an hour before coming up with a good plan. I shove the Blade of Woe in its sheath into my bra band.

I go back downstairs and Manheim grins at me.

"May I buy you a drink?" I look at him through my eyelashes in the flirtiest way I can manage. It works, and he blunders, turning red.

"Well, uh, yes." I place my gold on the table and he fills up a tankard of mead before returning to where I sit.

"Why did you pick a name like Ill Omen for your inn, anyways?" I buy some food from him and nibble at it while he drinks up.

He takes another swig of meal and waves his hand. "It's a horrible name for an inn, I know. But I just can't bring myself to change it. Besides, I like the sign. Tell me about you." He rests his arms on the counter and gives me his attention.

"Well…" I begin, the story forming in my head. "I received this letter from my mother saying my sister fell gravely ill and is on her deathbed. She lives in Bravil, you see." I shake my head, looking very sad. "My mom sent me to work on a farm as a laborer when I was young, but now I think I might leave. I just don't know where to go. I'll have to work that out myself."

Manheim smiles sympathetically. "If you don't mind me asking…are you married?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm not married. Nor have I ever been." He tries to hide his interest, but I see it plain as day on his face. My plan is working and he's falling for me, which is essential.

I change the subject, directing it at him. "Oh, you work so hard to maintain this inn…" I smile shyly at him and he beams.

After a moment, Manheim leans in a bit and whispers. "Would a pretty lady like you ever consider returning and being courted by an innkeeper such as myself?" His eyes are kind and for a second I actually imagine it, being his wife, my parents happy, having a business and children.

No. No I can't let that happen. Yet I still lie to him, because I want him to like me for my alibi. "Of course." I look delighted and sweep my red hair behind my ear before taking his large hands in my own. He stares at my hands for a moment before looking absolutely pleased.

"This calls for more mead." He refills his tankard and begins drinking. The Imperial guard comes in from his shooting practice outside, and Manheim even gives him a drink on the house. He offers me some, but I politely decline.

"Such a lady." Manheim winks at me. Why does everyone insist on calling me a lady?

I sit at the table and make small conversation with Manheim and the guard who start getting very drunk after an hour or so. Manheim brags about courting me and the Imperial guard looks uncomfortable. He dismisses himself to his room for the night, as the sky has darkened and turned black outside.

"Umm, Manheim?" I say, batting my eyes at him. He jumps to attention, clearly happy to get me whatever I want. "Could you heat up some water? I like to take baths before I go to bed." I make a show of yawning and stretching, and the man's blue eyes turn soft.

"Of course, my dear. I'll need to go and pump some water from the well, first." He grabs a bucket from behind the counter.

I smile at him. "I'll be in my room gathering my night things. Knock when you've heated it." He grins and rushes to leave the house. As soon as I'm sure he's out of sight, I pull the Blade of Woe from my bra band and head over to the trap door leading down into the Private Quarters. Pulling it up, I descend down the stairs and pull the trap door back down. I head down the hall and enter his room.

Dim candles light the room and cast a yellow glow onto the dark walls. Rufio lies in a bed in the corner, his face turned towards me as he sleeps.

I pull the dagger from its sheath and hold it in my right hand. My heart pounds in my ears, and I'm surprised he can't hear it. This is it. One deep cut over his neck and I'll be a member of the Dark Brotherhood. My new life will begin.

I stand over him while he sleeps. He looks troubled, and I wonder how long he's been running. I gently remove the pillow next to him that he's not sleeping on, careful not to stir him, and hold it in my left hand to catch the blood when I cut his neck.

I take the Blade of Woe and, in one quick strike, slice it over his neck. My left hand holds the pillow over his face and the blood squirts, turning the linen red. I toss the pillow onto the bed next to him. His clothes are bloodstained and his eyes are open, but glazed over in death, as though he realized what I was doing before it was too late.

I quickly wipe my blade on his clothes, sheath it, and stick it into my bra band. I hurry out of his room and to the ladder. I listen as I hear Manheim again walking to the door, shut it, and leave for the well. Throwing open the thatch, I pull myself out, close it, and dart up the stairs.

I shut myself in my room and begin pulling off my clothes until I'm in my underthings. My heart pounds in my ears as I hear Manheim begin walking up the stairs and towards my room. I pull my nightgown over my head.

He knocks on the door and I open it. "Your bath is ready." He is sweaty, but all smiles, pleased to serve me.

"Thank you –is there by any chance a divider in the room with the tub?" I ask, smiling shyly.

"Well, yes, why?"

I fidget with my hands, wringing them. "Well, you see, I'm just afraid someone else might come into the room. Could you guard the door and talk to me?"

He turns red and then smiles like it's the best day of his life. "Of course."

I walk down the stairs and he follows. The tub room is warm from the hot water, and I walk behind the wooden divider and start pulling off my nightgown and small clothes, careful to make sure Manheim can't see me, before settling in the tub.

He sits behind the divider near the door and starts talking about his family. I add the appropriate responses when needed as I bathe. The cuts on my ribs are worse now, very inflamed, and I put a hand over my mouth to keep from shouting when the hot water touches them. I rest my head on the rim of the tub and wait for the pain to ebb.

I duck down in the water and submerge my head, scrubbing my hair. When I emerge, I get that _feeling_ that I'm being watched, so I look near the divider. Manheim's voice still comes from near the door as he talks about his parents' store, so I respond back about how lovely that sounds as I continue to look around. The room seems empty but I still have the feeling, and I grit my teeth.

Lowering my voice enough that Manheim can't hear, I hiss, "Lucien, if you are watching me bathe, I swear I will kill you." Manheim continues talking, and over the sound of his voice, I'm certain I hear a low chuckle.

That _bastard_. I don't know how he can be invisible, but watching me while I bathe makes me uncomfortable. I hold my arms over my chest, shielding my breasts from his prying sight.

"Are you okay in there? You haven't responded to my question." I jump as Manheim raises his voice.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. I was just washing my hair." Manheim goes silent for a minute and I add. "I'm almost done, can you bring me a towel?"

I hear the chair squeak as he leaves the room and I sit in paranoid silence, my eyes scanning every shadow and corner in the room. I don't see the Speaker, but I can sense he's there, and it makes me angry, like I was at Tristeran.

Manheim tosses the towel over the divider and I realize I'll have to get up to grab it. I grit my teeth and stand up. I'm frozen in place as the cold air hits the infected cuts and I wrap my arms over my chest, doubling over slightly. I gasp quietly as the pain sears through me.

"Are you okay in there?" Manheim says after a second. I don't say anything, just stay doubled over. Finally the pain begins to ebb away and I half-stumble out of the tub, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around me.

"I'm fine," I say, my voice a pitch too high. Manheim goes and sits back down at his chair behind the divider while I tremble and dry my legs.

I wish I had a healing potion, or knew what the herbs I grabbed were. I need to put something on the cuts or I'll be in trouble. I manage to pull on my small clothes and nightgown and come out from behind the divider.

"I'm awfully tired, could you walk me to my room?" I grimace, but not from exhaustion. It takes all my effort to stand up straight. The last thing I need is Manheim asking why I'm in so much pain; it'd raise too many questions.

He nods politely and offers his arm. I take it and he leads me up the stairs. He opens the door to my room.

"It's been a pleasure," I say, smiling, trying to keep up my act.

Manheim beams. "No, thank you. Good night, sweet Jyllia." He kisses me on the cheek and departs. I kind of feel bad about lying to him, but it is necessary. I close the door to my room and nearly fall over onto my bed. The pain ebbs and flows as I lie there in the dark. Finally, it recedes just enough for me to fall asleep.

* * *

 

I wake up with a jolt. My room is lit with mage lights and sitting next to me on the floor is Lucien Lachance, black robes and all. He holds a small vial in his hand.

"Hi," I mumble through my sleep. He snorts.

"You do sleep awful soundly for a murderer. I thought you might need this, given those nasty cuts on your ribs." He smirks and I want to punch him. I sit up in bed and take the vial, drinking it greedily.

"It will only ease the pain for a few days. So, the deed is done. You killed Rufio and finished your initiation into our family. Well done." He smiles darkly.

"Do you think you could mind your privacy and not watch me bathe?" I spit out at him, tossing the empty vial into his hands.

Lucien's voice mimics innocence. "I don't know what you are talking about?" However, his eyes bear a mischievous glimmer in them. I scowl and cross my arms.

"Heed these words. The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink. As a Speaker of the Black Hand, and I know you understand what that means by your extensive knowledge of books, I oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contracts given." He's right. I'm a bit too familiar with the Dark Brotherhood's organization, for many authors like to write about their secrets…shortly before they are murdered.

"So you're personally choosing me for your own group?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Lucien laughs. "Nothing passes you, does it? Very good. You need those skills of observation to be a successful assassin. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the eastern wall. Enter the basement, and attempt to open the Black Door."

I nod my head. "Right, how do I open it?"

"You will be asked a question. Answer with: 'Sanguine, my brother.' You will gain entrance to the Sanctuary. Speak with Ocheeva. Also, another family member has been instructed to give you a rather strong healing potion for your wounds. Ocheeva will be able to direct you to him." He stands up off the ground.

"Sanguine, my brother. Got it." My insides quiver with anticipation. I hope he can't tell how excited I am to be having this adventure.

"We must now take leave of each other for there is much work to be done. I will be following…your progress." He smirks again.

"You mean watching me bathe?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I mean watching your glorious work for the Night Mother as you kill in Sithis's name." His gaze is hard and makes me shrink away. "Welcome to the family." His voice is barely more than a whisper and he slowly fades until he disappears, whatever invisibility spell he used taking affect. My door opens and closes, and the overwhelming feeling I get when he is around slowly dims away.

I lay my head back down on my pillow and sigh. This is turning out to be quite the adventure.

**Thanks for reading! The Blade of Woe she is using is actually the Skyrim one because I think it looks cooler, but that's just my opinion. Who wouldn't want Lucien Lachance watching them bathe, anyways?**


	3. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris goes to Cheydinhal to meet her new family and falls unconscious.

I wake up the next morning feeling awfully good. Although the slices on my ribs look worse, Lucien's potion has completely taken away the pain. I pack up all my bags and am about to head down the stairs when I overhear guards at the counter.

"Honestly," Manheim insists, his voice sounding annoyed. "She couldn't have killed him. She was with me the whole time."

"What were you doing?" The guard demands, his voice sounding equally irritated. Manheim pauses for a minute and doesn't say anything, so I head down the stairs with my luggage.

"He watched the door while I took a bath. There was a divider and my virtue wasn't in danger. We were talking the whole time." The guard only grumbles and Manheim looks relieved, shooting me a glance that I interpret as _thank you_.

"What happened, anyway?" I ask as naively as I can.

Manheim shakes his head. "Rufio was murdered during the night." I gasp and the guard looks at me.

"We suspect the Dark Brotherhood is involved." He looks grim.

I laugh, though not voluntary. "The Dark Brotherhood? I grew up being told they were just a story told to children to make them behave."

The guard sighs. "All you country folk are so ignorant. Well, I best be off. You lot don't know anything." He stomps out the door and I shrug at Manheim.

"Well, that's going to be bad for business." He looks kind of sad so I rub his arms.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay in the end. I have to go now." I smile sadly at him, or at least he interprets it as sadly.

"Come back to me," He whispers, stepping forward just enough to close the distance between us.

"I'll try," I respond, but I'm cut off as he presses his lips against mine, pulling me into a gentle kiss. The only man I ever kissed was Tristeran, and he was rough and mean. This is soft and warm and gentle.

The kiss is short and he pulls away. "Good bye, Jyllia."

I smile despite myself. "Good bye, Manheim." I nod to him and leave the inn and him behind. I walk to the stable, untie Dusty, who was apparently fed by Manheim (in an attempt to please me), and tie my stuff to his saddle before climbing on. I give the Inn one last glance before riding north.

* * *

 

Two days later, Dusty and I arrive in Cheydinhal, both very tired. He's a sturdy horse and I pat his back lovingly. I leave him in the stables outside and then enter the city.

It is beautiful, with cobblestone paths surrounded by rich green grass. Trees tower above gorgeous, expensive looking homes. I stare in awe at them all.

I've never been in a city before. I grew up in a small town, with farms and wooden homes. The stone buildings with bushes and flowers surrounding them make me want to jump up and down. I walk down the paths carrying my bag until I come upon a Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. I decide it might be best if I could change before making my appearance.

When I enter, a woman greets me.

"Mariana Ancharia, hostess of Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. We provide beds and food to persons of quality in the Cheydinhal community." She looks at me, as though she doesn't deem me of quality.

"Yes, you see, I've been travelling for a while and I'm meeting a friend. Would you mind if I could have a bath?" I give her my biggest smile.

She glares. "Baths are only for paying customers."

So this is how she's going to be then, difficult? I give her a dark look. "I'll pay for a bath, but if you don't service me I'll make sure my friends know about it." The intimidation works, and she quickly throws on a false smile.

"Of course, that'll be three gold. Your bath coming right up. In fact, I already have some water heated!" She ushers me into a room and begins dumping buckets of water from a fireplace into a tub. I smile at her, and when she's done I give her four gold.

"Keep the change." I wink at her and she smiles before handing me a towel and closing the door to give me some privacy. I slip out of my clothes and into the tub. I can tell the healing potion is starting to wear off because a small amount of stinging of my ribs becomes persistent, though I ignore it. I grab a bar of perfumed soap she left out and scrub it into my long red hair, the suds turning brownish color.

After I finish excessively scrubbing my hair and the rest of my body, I rinse before stepping out of the tub. I carefully dry my body, use the towel to soak the water from my hair, and comb my fingers through it. I forgot my hair brush.

I fish through my bag until I pull out my nice clothes, the ones I wore when Tristeran attacked me. The memory makes me ill, but this is the best I have, and I want to make a good impression. I don't want them to see me as farm girl.

The white and green dress with frilly white lace doesn't go well with my dirty brown shoes, so I kick them off and shove them into my bag. The city seems nice enough to be able to walk around barefoot.

I leave the room and Mariana the innkeeper smiles at me. "Have a nice day!" I wave at her, though I feel disgusted that she was willing to treat me rudely until I threatened her. Are city folk always like this?

I wander through the Cheydinhal streets for a while, the sun leaving its high point in the sky as the afternoon wears on. Let's see…I entered through the Western Gate, which means if I just keep walking I should get towards the eastern side.

I walk over a pretty bridge, gleaming blue water below it. I feel so happy, I could die. If only I could live in a house near the water in this city!

As I turn a corner, in the distance a little bit I see a home with boarded up windows and doors. This must be the abandoned house. My heart starts racing and I notice all the guards nearby. How do I get in without them seeing me?

I stand there and observe the guards. Not a single one of them looks at or near the house, like it doesn't even exist. Slowly, I walk up, keeping my eyes on them. They don't say a word, nor do they look at me.

The front door is boarded up, though the boards don't actually prevent me from entering. I try the handle and it is locked.

I swear under my breath in a very non-lady-like manner. I look around, but still the guards refuse to acknowledge me, if they even do know I'm there. I pull a pin from my still-damp hair and insert it into the lock. I can't see what I'm doing, as the sun is setting quickly. I'm not sure how to pick a lock, though I used to watch the boys in my town try it. I wiggle the pin around, and after a few minutes the lock clicks. I breathe out a sigh of relief and turn the handle.

The house is dark and cobwebs line the walls. I shiver from the cold and pull out the Blade of Woe, holding it ready in case something jumps out at me. There is a door underneath the stairwell. I open it, and step inside.

A lantern hangs on the wall as I descend into the basement. Old barrels lie discarded around me, and I step over pieces of stone from where a wall has crumbled to form an opening ahead. I enter the tunnel behind it, and round a corner.

A red glow is the first thing I see. Slowly, I step my way out to a platform near a large door, lined with black. A giant skull is engraved on it, and the glow comes from a handprint.

The door shows an engraving of a large skeleton with five other small ones worshiping it. The Night Mother and the Black Hand. As I near, a ghostly voice pierces the air.

 _What is the color of night?_ I don't see anyone near the door, but I believe magic is at work. The sound of the voice seems to go straight through me, filling my very essence.

"Sanguine, my brother." My voice trembles. The Black Door is quiet for a moment, then it opens, scraping against the stone. _Welcome_ , the door says.

I step over the threshold, my feet still bare. The door closes behind me, and my heart pounds in my ears. No turning back now.

Up ahead, I can see a woman standing in a brightly lit room. I walk slowly, standing on the balls of my feet. The room begins to warm up as I near closer to me, and I'm able to walk flat on the ground again, the floor warm.

As I near the woman, I can tell she isn't human. Glittery green, purple and orange scales cover her face and go down her neck below her dark armor. She has smiling, orange eyes with black slits. She must be an Argonian; although I've read about them, I've never seen one. I beam at her and her face softens.

"Welcome, welcome Sister! It is wonderful to finally meet you. Lucien has told us all about you. I am Ocheeva, mistress of this Sanctuary. And you are Zarissis, I presume?" She smiles and I fight the urge to flinch. Argonian smiles are not always reassuring, due to their many sharp teeth.

"Just Zaris, please." I feel out of my depth in my white and green lacy dress, like a child.

She bursts forward and hugs me, though very gently. She doesn't put any pressure on my chest. Pulling away, she grins again. "Let me be the first to welcome you. The Night Mother is pleased another Daughter has joined our ranks. Welcome to the Sanctuary, may it serve as a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises." She loops our arms and starts leading me through the main hall. My ears pick up on a commotion of noise, laughter and chatter from within another room, though we go the opposite way of the sound.

We enter through a set of rusty metal doors and into a hall. Two doors face each other past this, and we enter on the right. The room inside is adorned with carpets and draperies on the walls. Four beds sit in a half circle, all but one of them decorated with different accessories. One is covered with white, lacy quilts and pillows; another has a plant on the table next to the bed and a green, patchwork blanket laying neatly over the bed. The final bed has a large amount of quilts and blankets folded over it in purple, green and orange; though, it does not look like the bed has been used recently.

"This is the women's living quarters. Men sleep across the hall, to give us privacy. Each bed chamber has its own washroom connected to it; ours is that door over there. Inside, you'll also find lockers to keep gear in if you don't want to place it within the chest at the foot of your bed. The chest can be locked, though I wouldn't worry about it too much. Nobody in this Sanctuary will steal from you, unless they want Lucien Lachance to deal with."

"Me? Why would he do that for me?" I squeak. She laughs and shakes her head.

"No, dear. It's a Tenet. The Dark Brotherhood has its own set of rules, including the Five Tenets. Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Follow these rules and you'll be fine…break them, and you'll have to answer to Lucien Lachance. The last time someone broke a Tenet…it was not pretty." She grimaces, her face becoming sullen. Then she brightens up again.

"Inside your chest is a gift from the family. It's armor for you that is lighter than leather and black as the Void. Lucien gave us your measurements…so it's sure to fit like a glove." She smiles like it's no big deal, though alarms start going off in my head. When did he _measure_ me?

"Thank you," I respond, feeling a bit more comforted, even in spite of the news that Lucien Lachance seems to be paying more attention to me than I'd like. Or maybe he's a control freak.

Ocheeva takes my arm and leads me back out into the main room. She motions to a hallway at the end of the room. "Down there are my quarters, and if you continue to the end of the hall you'll find Vicente Valtieri's living space. He gives contracts for new members. I also hear he has a healing potion for you to take, for your wound." She motions towards my ribs and I sigh, though she shakes her hands at me. "No, no sister, do not be concerned. Only Lucien, Vicente and myself are aware of the...conditions that brought you here, though you have no reason to fear anyone in this Sanctuary. They would not harm you." She rubs my arm affectionately, and I'm filled with warmth. So far Ocheeva has been nothing but comforting and it's making me feel a lot better about being here, not as nervous.

"Over this way is the training room, through that door," she motions to the left, "and over that way, where the extreme commotion is coming from, is the kitchen and dining hall. Would you like to meet your new family now?" The noise of arguing and laughing sounds welcoming, but I'm still really nervous.

I swallow hard. "Sure." My voice sounds small and Ocheeva gives me a quick sideways hug.

"Don't worry, they'll like you." She leads me through the door.

A long table seats the members of my family. Closest to me is a woman with short blonde hair. Her eyes light up when she sees me. Across from her, leaning back in a chair that looks like it is about to break is a very green Orc wearing intricate, embossed red heavy armor. Next to him is a woman with oddly shaped features. I assume she's an elf, but a hood is pulled over her head, covering her hair and ears. Next to the blonde is an Argonian man with orange and green scales, very similar looking to Ocheeva. Farther down the table sits a man in mostly shadow, the darkest part of the room. I can tell his skin is quite pale by its ghostly glow in the dark, but that's it.

Ocheeva unlinks her arm with mine and pushes me forward. "This is Zaris, our new sister Lucien was talking about." My cheeks flush and I wonder how much longer I'm going to hear about Lucien.

The blonde bursts forward with so much enthusiasm she knocks her chair over with a clatter. "Zar! Am I allowed to call you that? I'm glad you're finally here!" She grabs me in a tight embrace and I gasp out of pain. She releases me and puts her hands over her mouth.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hug you so hard! I'm just so excited to meet you! I'm Antoinetta." I start feeling a little overwhelmed by her eagerness.

"Now Antoinetta, don't make the poor girl overwhelmed," a deep voice says from behind her, and she turns around to grin at a very large Orc. There was an Orc who lived on the outside of our town, so they aren't foreign to me. He's wearing a set of black heavy metal armor, unlike the others who wear a robe or leather.

The Orc towers above me, but I'm also pretty short. He pats me very gently on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family!" He grins a big toothy smile that makes me almost giggle. "I'd hug you, but Ocheeva told me not to. I think you'll fit in right here with us. I'm Gogron gro-Bolmag." He nods at me and steps back to allow another member of the Brotherhood to greet me. I feel warm all over at their friendliness, despite Antoinetta.

Another Argonian steps up between the two. He looks strikingly similar to Ocheeva, except without the purple coloring her scales glimmer with.

"I am Teinaava. I welcome you to our family and this Sanctuary. May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of the Night Mother." He gives me a rather awkward hug, as though he wasn't intending on doing so but the actions of the others made him feel obliged. He nods at me and leaves the dining hall.

A pretty Bosmer woman approaches, light golden hair pulled back into a bun. She nods at me politely. "Warmest welcomes to you. I am Telaendril, Wood Elf and loyal daughter of Sithis. I hope you find our Sanctuary to your liking." Her tone is extremely formal, not at all bubbly like the others.

"I believe I will," I smile at her, saying the first thing since all of my new family started introducing themselves. She gives me a half-smile before stepping back.

"So, Zaris, who did you kill to get the attention of Lucien Lachance?" Antoinetta asks, her eyes lighting up as she says his name.

"Just someone I got unwanted…attention…from." I say the sentence slowly and Antoinetta opens her mouth in the form of an 'O'.

She bits her lip. "Sorry I asked."

Gogron chuckles behind her. "Guess he got what was coming to him, ehh? Hard to see someone as tiny and innocent as yourself killing anybody."

I scowl. "Perhaps I'm tougher than I look."

Telaendril pipes up behind them. "Just ignore Gogron, you're just fine. Look at Antoinetta, how could anybody believe someone as bubbly as her could be a cold-blooded murderer?" With that all three of them laugh and I smile slightly.

I noticed the figure in the shadows at the end of the table hasn't moved at all this whole time. He sits with his body turned towards me, clearly watching me but not making any move to step forward.

"Who is that?" I try to discreetly motion towards him but Ocheeva next to me shakes her head.

"Don't try to whisper, he can hear you anyways. That's just Vicente Valtieri, the one I told you gives assignments to new members." She gives me a little push out of the group. "Now that you've noticed him, go say hi."

My cheeks burn and I feel a little embarrassed, though I wonder how he could have heard me. I know I was pretty quiet when I whispered.

I walk to him, trying to calm the odd feeling I am beginning to get. It is similar to when Lucien Lachance is around, but it makes me shiver slightly, like the air around the man is a little colder than usual. I hear footsteps recede behind me, and a quick look back confirms that the other family members left the room, leaving me alone with the man in the shadows.

He leans back into his chair as I sit down next to him. In the dim light, I can fully see his features. His face is very gaunt and he has long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He makes eye contact with me and a slight shock runs through my body when I see his eyes are red and discolored.

"Warmest greetings to you, sister." His voice has a unique sound to it, as though the language he speaks is not native to his tongue. He smiles at me, which is less reassuring than when Ocheeva smiled. My heartbeat speeds up.

He seems to notice my reaction and shakes his head. "Please, do not let my appearance…unnerve you. The needs and the Tenets of the Dark Brotherhood come before my own needs as a vampire." He studies me closely, keeping track of every smallest change in my facial expressions and heart pattern.

"I thought vampires didn't exist. Just something in books." My voice is smaller than I intend it to be and he inhales slowly, choosing his next words carefully.

"They are not common, but they do exist. Please, do not be alarmed. I will not hurt you." He reaches out and takes one of my hands. His skin is very cold and it makes me shiver, but I don't pull away.

"So then you did hear me over there?" I sort of motion with my shoulder and he confirms my question, nodding slowly, not once looking away to acknowledge where I motioned. I narrow my eyes at him slightly. "What all _can_ you hear?"

This does not appear to be a conversation he wants to get in to. He dismisses the thought. "We'll save those questions for a different day. For now, we'll talk about contracts."

He opens his mouth to talk but I give him a hard look and cut him off. "If you don't mind," I say, my voice having more strength, "I would really like to know. Now."

Vicente sighs. "Lucien said you would be likely to question me about every aspect of my existence. You're very stubborn, aren't you?" He searches my face for something, so I glare at him.

He resigns. "Very well. I could hear your hushed whisper when you questioned Ocheeva about who I am. I can hear your heart pumping blood through your body. I could pinpoint the exact spots on you to bite down and suck the life out of your body." His words are harsh and I can tell he's attempting now to get a rise out of me. I'm suddenly conscious of my own heartbeat and mentally tell myself to calm down. He looks at me, practically staring into my soul and I find myself unable to move or break away from his gaze. I'm glued to the spot by an unnatural force emanating from him.

"I can tell when you're afraid or angry, and I can tell that you're afraid right _now_ , even if you're trying to deny it to yourself. I can _smell_ the fear on you. I can smell that you took a bath shortly before you came here. I can smell that you wore the dress you have on when the man who was courting you attempted to take advantage of you, because I can smell his death on you. Now tell me, dear sister, would you like to talk about your first contract?" His last sentence is a whisper. I still can't find the will to move and I don't say anything, just stare into his red eyes. His hand has tightened on mine considerably, and a very light pull confirms that I could not get away, even if I tried.

"I will _not_ hurt you." He releases my hand and his threatening demeanor goes away, replaced with the relatively human persona he wore when he first greeted me. He continues as though nothing happened and that he did not just paralyze me with fear.

"If you're ready to get to work, I can provide you with your first contract. A contract is a secret pact one enters into with the Dark Brotherhood. They perform the Black Sacrament, provide us with gold, and we remove someone from existence. Now, from what Lucien has told me, you seem to already know a lot about the Dark Brotherhood, which means you should know what the Black Sacrament is." I barely nod my head, still unable to do much else. It's like my body is barely under my control. He continues on. "A contract is fulfilled by a skilled assassin, such as one of our family, who keeps the Dark Brotherhood's end of the bargain. So it has always been. While carrying out a contract, you may have the opportunity to earn a bonus if certain parameters are met. Now, let's begin, shall we?"

I'm still unable to move, so he continues. "I'm not sure how you feel about pirates, but you've got to kill one. A captain, in fact. On his ship. Surrounded by his crew. Interested?" I try to open my mouth to speak, but I realize I physically am unable to. Vicente stops for a moment and really looks at me.

"Ah," he mutters, looking down for a second. "I do apologize. I lost myself for a moment earlier. Are you okay?"

He searches my face and I stare back at him, incapable of looking away. Suddenly his eyes widen, like he's realized something. He moves his hands to my face and runs them over my cheekbones, brushing my red hair behind my ears. He studies my face, and I realize he's looking at the dilation of my pupils.

"It appears as though I accidentally enthralled you." His eyes search mine for a second. "Please don't fear me. Calm down, or I will be unable to break the spell."

He runs his cold hands over my hair and cheeks for several minutes, and at last I can sense the magical barrier holding me in place breaking down. I exhale deeply as soon as I have control over myself, unwillingly leaning into the hand on my cheek, exhaustion pulling at my mind. At once I feel my ribs burning with heat, and the color drains from my face as the pain spreads out. It is as though the wound sensed a magical barrier and was cut off from my body, but when it broke, all of the pain I numbed down in my head came gushing back.

The vampire's eyes widen once more and his nostrils flare, as though he can smell something on me. "You're very badly injured and in pain. Why did you not say sooner?" One hand cradles my face and I wonder how the creature that was threatening me minutes before could be so gentle now.

"It didn't hurt until now." I grit my teeth. Vicente stands up in one graceful motion and sweeps me into my arms, carrying me like a doll.

I stiffen. "Put…me down." Despite the burning sensation, my voice is a growl, but he ignores me, not saying anything at all. We exit the dining hall and the other brothers and sisters turn around to watch us. I feel small surges of anger at being treated like a child.

"Is she okay?" Antoinetta's concerned tone meets my ears. I close my eyes and allow myself to be held by the man, even though I can't say I appreciate being picked up and cradled by someone I don't know. I'm still mad.

"She's injured. Why didn't anybody say something sooner?" He sounds angry and it makes me flinch, remembering the wrath he displayed earlier regarding his condition.

Ocheeva begins talking, and she and Vicente argue as he stalks with me in arm to another portion of the Sanctuary, though their voices become muffled. A heaviness begins to pull at my eyes, even though they are closed.

The last thing I feel before I black out is something soft and fluffy beneath me.

* * *

 

At first I think I'm back in my own bed. Only it doesn't smell right. This bed smells musty; my bed smells like dirt and flour.

I open my eyes to utter blackness. Am I dead? After a few minutes of looking everywhere but nowhere at the same time, my eyes finally adjust and I can see dim candles lit around the room.

Oh, right. I'm back in the Sanctuary. At that moment I silently gasp to myself. I _passed out_ on my first day in the Sanctuary, after I was enthralled to a vampire, who then insisted on carrying me someplace, apparently here.

I feel kind of cold, but then I realize I am only wearing my small clothes and my bra band. I pull the quilt and musty furs off and squint in the dark for a while to see a bandage wrapped around my torso, covering the previous-painful injury. It is slightly sore now, but nowhere near as bad as it was.

I lay there in the dark for a long time before my eyes completely adjust, and I can see the sleeping silhouettes of my sisters in the beds next to me. On the bed-table next to me is my dress, folded neatly by expert hands. Did Vicente…undress me? The thought makes me shiver, but then I remember Ocheeva was with him. I hope he didn't see me without clothes; that'd be three-too-many men.

I don't feel tired, so I slowly push myself up and carefully tread to the chest at the foot of my bed. It clicks open, already unlocked, but none of my sisters stir at the sound. I slowly pull open the lid.

Someone has neatly placed all of my possessions I came with in the chest. At the very top of the pile is the new armor the family gave me. I quietly lift it up, and am about to close the lid when I notice the book it was sitting on: _Immortal Blood_.

I sigh. That's a definite sign it was Vicente Valtieri who put all of my belongings away. I pick up the book about vampires, place it in the same arm as the armor, and close the lid of my trunk with another quiet _click_.

I quietly walk on the balls of my feet over to the wash room, which is also lit with dim candles. I carefully close the door and set the armor down before walking near a light source and peeking under the bandages around my torso.

The inflamed flesh is healed with only raw scars left, the skin back to its normal pale pallor. That healed very quick…I really should thank Vicente and Ocheeva when I get a chance.

I pick back up the armor and begin inspecting it. It's a lot of leather and buckles and it takes me a while to figure out how to put it on. I pick up the last piece, a leather belt, only to realize the Blade of Woe is strapped onto it by its sheath. I slip that around my waist and grab _Immortal Blood_. As I'm about to leave the wash room, a piece of parchment slips out and slides on the floor.

I unfold it and hold it close enough to a candle to read it without setting it on fire. It's been written with a careful hand, very elegant script gracefully sloping across it.

_Zarissis,_

_I do apologize for my loss of control earlier. I wish to reintroduce myself, on better terms. When you get this, come to my office, preferably during the evening or the night, as those are my usual hours._

_Vicente Valtieri_

The idea of Vicente knowing that I read any kind of book about vampires is unsettling, but now he wants me to go meet him? The idea is doesn't sit well with me. 

But he's now my brother and my family, plus he healed me. I set aside my doubts and stick the note back into my book and tucking it under my arm. I pick up a candle and open the wash room door before stepping out, preparing to meet a vampire in the dead of night.


	4. Trust and Homemade Meals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris needs help in the dark, she pisses of a Speaker, and trains with weapons.

My sisters sleep deeply as I slip out of the bed chamber to go and meet Vicente. Apart from the noisy snoring coming from the men's room, the Sanctuary is quiet.

I slip out into the main room. It's very dark with no candles lit, aside from the one I carry. It spooks me and I feel slightly frightened, given that I don't usually go out during the night. Farming was always a daytime thing. Taking a deep breath, I try to get a hold of myself before stepping out and walking towards the middle of the vast space.

Something creaks behind me and I turn around quickly, but the movement blows my candle. I'm thrown into pitch black darkness.

My heart begins pounding in my ears and I get a very vulnerable feeling. I know I heard something creak behind me and now I can't see what it is. I still am not too sure about the layout of the place, and I'm terrified of moving in case I trip or knock something over or even something else potentially dangerous.

I'm suddenly aware of footsteps approaching me. I turn towards the sound of the noise and search the blackness, but see nothing. My breath hitches in my throat and the footsteps stop.

"It seems you're in a bit of a predicament." A familiar voice hits my ears and I recognize it as Vicente. I exhale, a little too loudly. My heart feels like it is about to burst.

I hear him step closer in the dark. "Trust me?"

I stand there in the blackness for a moment without saying anything. "Yes. I trust you." When the words finally leave my mouth, I can't believe I'm saying it. Why should I trust him when he scared me earlier? When he's a vampire?

"Your heartbeat betrays you. Do not lie to me." His voice is stern and I feel like a child being caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"I'm sorry," I say softer. "I trust you." The words come out slowly and Vicente is very quiet for a moment. At last, after what feels like several minutes, something cold grabs my hand and pulls me gently.

"Do not fear the night, sister." An arm wraps over my shoulders while I still hold onto his hand. He walks with me for a while, until I notice the ground sloping downwards as we walk.

"This is the hall that leads towards my chambers." We take a few steps, and then he very slowly pulls me to the left. He takes my hand and runs it over something cold and rough. "This is the door to Ocheeva's room. My room is right down the hall." His voice is a hushed whisper in my ear and I withdraw my hand. We walk for a little longer until I can see a little light shining beneath a door. He pulls open the door and I flinch at the sudden change, holding my hand near my face to block out the sudden light. He steps in behind me and I hear the door shut, likely to keep from waking any of the family.

Vicente chuckles. "That is exactly how I feel every day." There is a flat stone slab somewhat resembling a bed with a lit candle at the head of it on the right end of his chamber. I narrow my eyes.

"Do you _sleep_ on that?" My tone is incredulous and he laughs again.

"I find it very comfortable." He walks over to a table in the center and pulls out a chair. "Please, sit down." His voice is still very stern, so I quickly move to go exactly what he says. He sits in the chair next to me and turns to face me.

"I owe you an apology. It has been many years since I've lost control like that, and I regret you had to meet me in such a way. Let's begin again, shall we? I am Vicente Valtieri." I admire the way his voice sounds as his mouth forms the words. It's eloquent.

"I'm Zaris," I say after a moment.

"Yes, I know. As I am aware, Lucien never told you the Five Tenets of the Brotherhood. The Tenets are a way to keep our family safe and organized." I nod my head, indicating I am paying attention. He smiles and continues. "Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis." He finishes and observes me closely.

The 'wrath of Sithis' sends shivers up my spine. "What exactly is the Wrath of Sithis?"

Vicente is very quiet for a moment. "I do not know. However, I do know what Lucien Lachance will do to anyone who breaks a Tenet. And before you ask, I don't intend to tell you. The last thing we need is the Speaker being angry for scaring you more than necessary." He looks grumpy, though I can't tell if it's because of me or Lucien Lachance.

"So…I have a question. Why did you enthrall me?" I tap my fingers on the table quietly.

He sighs. "I've spent three hundred years trying to control my bloodlust and vampiric ways. Even today, I still struggle occasionally with control. When you walked in…well, I don't exactly get questioned in such a direct manner about what I am." Vicente scowls and looks at me very directly. "You caught me off guard."

I look down. "I'm sorry."

"No need. Being curious and asking questions isn't a fault." He stands up and walks to a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Would you like a drink?"

Normally, I don't drink. Ever. I've seen what alcohol can do to the mind, but that might be just what I need after this crazy day. "Sure," I respond, sounding a little resigned.

He sets the glass down in front of me and pours a modest amount before getting himself a glass. I pick it up and swirl the red liquid. Looks like a thinner version of blood. Across the table, Vicente smiles into his drink, as though he indirectly understood my thought.

I lift the glass to my nose and inhale deeply, before choking. "This smells foul," I gag.

"Ah, you are still yet a child, and have not drank much in your life." It's simply an observation on Vicente's part, but I scowl.

"I'm not a child." I lift the wine glass to my lips and sip the harsh liquid. I try to contain my disgust, but it shows on my face.

"To me, you are all children." It is simply a matter-of-fact to him. I watch him as he takes a drink. The action is graceful and refined, like somebody who has had a lot of time to practice.

"What about somebody else? Do you not wish you could have somebody to…" I trail off then, realizing what I'm about to say. Somebody to spend an eternity with. I don't want to upset him.

His eyes become distant for just a second, and I can tell that in his mind he is reliving a memory. "There was someone, once. She was very beautiful…but I suppose all things must come to an end. Assassins, given our line of work, do not live long, and one day I will meet my demise. However, I do not plan to dwell on such uncertainties."

I take another drink of wine. It's still foul, but it's bringing color to my cheeks. I question whether or not Vicente can smell my blood, and then dismiss the thought. It isn't something I really want to think about.

In a way I envy him. I am mortal, my demise could be around every corner – but he, he gets another chance. He will continue living and never grow old, he can't be poisoned, and he has greater control over others than a mere human has. He can do anything he wants.

"Perhaps," the vampire begins, swirling his wine in the glass similar to how I did minutes before, "in the future when I feel you have earned the right, I will offer you a chance to become a hunter of the night." The offer sends shivers up my arms, in a good way, and I wish that I'm not so readable to the vampire. It's embarrassing to have somebody able to guess what you're thinking or feeling all the time based on your heartbeat.

"Please don't be self-conscious of yourself around me. You are no different than anybody else." He doesn't mean it in a rude way, simply to try to comfort me.

"It's weird, though. If you can hear my heartbeat then you understand how I'm feeling, all the time." I take a rather large drink of wine, hoping it will calm me a little.

Vicente begins tapping his fingers on the table in a pattern I recognize to be my own heartbeat. I choke on the drink of wine and his fingers speed up to match my pulse.

"It isn't just your heartbeat, though I can hear it just fine. _You_ are just an open-book. Overtime, you'll learn secrecy, including hiding your feelings from those who might play with them. You do not need to fear me, for I would never hurt you, though Lucien might find it fun to play with your head, given your reactions." He stills his fingers and places his hand back down on the table, looking at me directly again. Now I can tell that he's searching my face for something.

"He's already gotten under my skin." I growl, and the vampire chuckles. I drink the rest of my glass, my cheeks feeling warm.

Vicente sits up straighter. "Now, about that contract I offered you earlier – " Whatever he intends to say is cut off by his chamber door flying open and a dark-haired man storming in, his black robes fluttering around him.

"Vicente! We – " He stops, mid-whatever he planned to shout at the poor vampire, and stares at me.

"You! Why are you in here?" It's at this moment that I recognize him as the same man who came to me in the night, offering an invitation to join his family.

"I was just – " I'm cut off as Lucien Lachance seizes me by the wrist and pulls me out of my chair. "Hey!"

His eyes are maniac with some kind of unseen excitement. "Sorry, Vicente. Whatever I planned to say to you can wait. Can I borrow the girl?" I glare harshly at him and consider biting down on the gloved hand holding me in place.

"I'd suggest asking her first, rather than just dragging her." He looks amused, and I take my opportunity, bring my arm close to my mouth and clamping my teeth onto the hand holding me.

"Shit, what – !" Lucien's dark eyes widen and I try to make my escape…tripping over the doorframe in the process and landing on my face. Luckily, my armor protects me from any spilled blood in the vampire's quarters, but that doesn't stop Vicente's choking or Lucien's sudden howling.

My cheeks burn with embarrassment and rage. I stand up and turn around, intending fully well to punch Lucien in the face. He catches my fist in his hand and turns me around, pushing me against the door frame, his stomach to my back.

"Fiesty, are you? Know this. If you ever try to punch me again, I will make sure you will hurt." The promise is dark, and my entire body seems to burn with shame. I've been humiliated, and in front of Vicente, no doubt.

The Speaker releases me, and I turn around to glare at him with all the hate I can manage. Something unspoken flickers in his face, and he smiles wickedly. I notice that he has a very handsome face – his facial structure looks like it was cleverly crafted by an artist. It's the face women would die for, and die they do, for such a dark smile is only one a murder bears. His dark hair is ponytailed back, and there's a light amount of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Arching eyebrows sit above his dark brown eyes that seem deep as the Void. He is a hunter, even just as much as Vicente. What he doesn't have in immortality or strength, he bears in appearance, and to a woman or even a gullible man, it's a more dangerous tool.

I question _what_ type of man he is. I don't mean his personality characteristics, either. Vicente is a business man, assassinating and the Dark Brotherhood is a business, one with workers and bosses. Does Lucien Lachance see the Dark Brotherhood as a business…or as a craft? Does he relish in the bloodshed and mania that he serves Sithis and the Dark Brotherhood purely to kill? Or does he enjoy killing but still see it as a job?

I am the latter, I believe. While I have yet to be talented in the skill of killing, I'm certain that after the first two acts, I found it to be a beautiful, mesmerizing art. I want to dip my paintbrush and paint, if you will. However, the contracts I receive are jobs, even if they're ones I like.

I swallow at his devilish smile, feeling a bit nervous.

"Now, are you going to come with me without trying to bite me or just be generally difficult?" I feel like a child being scolded, and I shoot a sideways glance at Vicente. He's giving me a very hard glance.

I debate saying no, but then I remember the Five Tenets. _Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._

My previous conversation with the vampire rises in my mind.

_What exactly is the Wrath of Sithis?_

_I do not know. However, I do know what Lucien Lachance will do to anyone who breaks a Tenet._

I choke back. "Yes."

His maniac eyes gleam. "Good, very good." He nods his farewell to Vicente and motions for me to follow.

I'm guessing this guy is very crazy.

I follow the handsome, dark haired man to the training room, where he turns to me. "I want you to just pick up a weapon and start practicing so I can get an idea of your skills."

I frown. "I've never used a weapon, other than when I'd help cut the heads off of chickens with an axe."

He looks at me very seriously. "Then it is time to learn."

I walk over to the weapons rack. There are axes, daggers, short blades, long blades, great swords, maces, claymores…and bows.

I've always wanted to learn archery, especially now. The idea of being able to pick off a target from a long distance seems rather convenient, so I choose the bow and a quiver of arrows.

Lucien leans nearby against a wall and I feel self-conscious as I string the arrow, pull back, and release. The air flies past the target, clashing into the wall.

"Again." Lucien's command makes my cheeks burn after such a terrible try.

I repeat my process before of stringing the arrow, pull, release. This time the arrow actually hits the target, but nowhere near the center where I aimed.

"Again." Comes the command again, and I pick up another arrow. Just as I string it, about to pull back my arm, warmth presses against my backside.

"Like this," Lucien's voice directs, warmth and ticklish against my ear. He places one hand over mine, pulling the arrow back to my cheek, his hand pressed against me. He slides the other hand over my stomach, pulling me against him.

"Breath in," he whispers, and I can smell his soap around me. The possessive position of his hand on my stomach while the other is resting against my cheek is intoxicating. I inhale deeply.

"Release," comes the breathy voice in my ear, and my hand opens up. The arrow slices through the air, hitting the target neatly in the center.

"What the hell is this?" An angry high-pitched voice behind us screeches _very_ jealously.

Lucien moves his head slightly to look behind him. "This is me teaching Zaris how to shoot." Lucien's body is preventing me from turning my head, but judging by the sheer pitch of the voice, I assume it's Antoinetta.

"Yeah, so? Does that require you to press your entire body up against her?" The blonde is practically seething with rage.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now if you don't mind, I have someone to teach." He dismisses her and returns to me, pulling me against him.

Antoinetta stomps out of the room and slams the training room doors. Lucien doesn't say anything.

"Is she your girlfriend?" I ask, feeling a little shy now.

"No." Lucien's tone is hard and flat.

"Oh. Do you like her?" We string another arrow together.

"No." Rather than the breathy, intimate person he'd been moments before, it's like I can feel a wall between us. "Now it's your turn to try."

He still stands very close behind me as I string the arrow and pull it back. One of his hands pushes against my stomach again. "Inhale."

I breathe in, focus on my target, count to three, and release. It hits just outside of the bull's-eye.

"Not bad. Let's try something new." I set the bow down and turn around to see Lucien holding two one-handed swords. He tosses one to me.

"Defend yourself," comes the reply, and suddenly I'm careening out of his way as he expertly slashes at me. I lift my blade and deflect his sword several times before I'm pushed against a wall with my eyes closed. The attack stops.

"Honestly? Are you going to close your eyes and cower if someone comes after you?" He grabs the front of my shirt and pushes me across the room. "Try again."

I raise my blade in conjuncture to his, deflecting off his attacks as he drives me backwards. My foot catches on the back of something and I'm falling sideways. One hand grips in my hair and the other on the back of my cuirass, pulling me up.

His attacks are back and instead of standing around, I try to make a few stabs towards him. I deflect, metal clinging on metal. It lasts longer this time as he drives me around the training room. I slash at him and his sword meets mine, deflecting it perfectly. His eyes have the maniac look to them, like it's the most exciting thing in the world to be attempting to slaughter me in the training room. I rush forward and he hits and twirls his sword so fast around mine, it rips out of my hand and goes flying. He shoves me against a wall, his blade to my throat.

He's so close to me our noses are nearly touching. I can see the dark brown rings around his mud-colored irises and a slight scar on his chin from some encounter. I can tell why Antoinetta got so jealous – he's very handsome, though I personally, for lack of a better word, think he's an ass.

Yet I'm stuck staring as he holds me in his gaze, the cold metal of his sword pushing into my throat. I think he's enjoying this.

After several moments, he releases me and I tenderly touch my neck.

"We'll practice again tomorrow, during the night." With that, Mr. Grumpy Speaker swirls his black robe out of the training room in a nearly very dramatic way.

I place my sword back on the training rack next to the other weapons and stare at them for a second. If I want to be an assassin, I should at least look as dramatic as possible (probably why Lucien likes his flowing black Speaker robe). I pick up a shiny, silver greatsword, holding it with both hands. It is heavier than the one-handed sword, moves slower, but I feel like I have more control than just swinging a weapon around hoping to achieve something.

I slice the air with a _whoosh_ , which makes me giggle. Walking over to the middle of the training room, I swing the sword in several ways, trying to get a feel for the new heaviness. I close my eyes, letting it control me. _Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh_. The sound it makes is fascinating. _Swoosh, swoosh, CLANG_. Metal hits metal and reverberates through my hands. My eyes fly open to see red looking back. The sword in his hands is ornate and jeweled, compared to the one I hold in my hands.

"You're standing wrong," Vicente directs, "Feet apart more. It will keep your opponents from using the weight of your weapon to push you over."

I pull my weapon back and swish it through the air, colliding with his. He looks like he's maneuvering a butter knife.

"It will become lighter to you overtime. You still need to develop some muscle in your arms. Start with basic defending, don't try to attack your opponent yet."

I nod and he advances, more gentle than Lucien was. I'm able to see his attacks and determine where they are heading, blocking his access to me. He keeps track of my progression and I can tell that he's slowly increasing the speed of his attacks.

 _Cling, clang, cling, cling_. My arms start getting a little sore and I begin breathing hard, my concentration failing. I watch my reactions become slower until at last, I fail to defend myself, and he takes an opening. My greatsword clamors out of my hand and on the ground. The vampire uses one of his feet to knock my balance off, and I fall on my back.

Vicente smirks at me, rests his sword against a training dummy, then takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. The workout is so unusual for me that the physical exertion leaves me light-headed and the change from lying to standing in an instant sends black spots in my eyes. I involuntarily fall forward, slumping into Vicente's arms, my cheek pressed ungracefully against his chest.

He rights me up and wraps an arm around my waist. "Come on, up you go." His voice is gentle, and I'm definitely sure I'd rather train with him than Lucien.

He nearly drags me into the kitchen and sets me on a counter, like a child. "When did you last eat?"

"Uhm," I mumble, "Early yesterday."

I'm certain I hear him swear under his breath before pulling food out of the pantries, acting like a mother hen while he lectures me on eating proper meals each day.

Seeing him cut food with a knife is almost as mesmerizing as watching him wield a greatsword. I eventually recover some of my strength and wander over as he fillets a fish as easily as though his hands had done it his whole life. He walks over and sets a pan on the cooking fire before placing the fillet on it. He returns to the pantry and pulls out some cheese and bread, placing them on a plate he retrieved earlier. He returns to the pantry and hesitates before pulling out an apple. He places that on the counter and cuts it into slices, handing me one.

"I figured you liked apples, considering that you had a couple in your bag when you came." He smiles, a very toothy grin, and bites into a slice.

"I thought your diet consisted only of blood and wine," I say half-jokingly. He chuckles.

"I can eat normal food just fine." As he cuts the apple, I have to nearly lean over and under him to grab another slice.

I can hear more family talking and chittering from other parts of the house. "Am I keeping you up late?"

"Perhaps, but I don't really mind." He checks the fillet while he's cooking it and I reach for the bread on my plate, taking a bite. Is he starting to enjoy my company?

The fish finishes and he dishes it up on my plate. "I'm going to bed, and you should go eat." He gives me a stern look and leaves the room. I take my dish to the dining hall and sit down at the table, aggressively chomping down. The fish is the best I've ever tasted, perfectly cooked. I don't realize how ravenously I'm tearing my food apart until Ocheeva walks in on her way to the kitchen, looking a bit tired. She notices me and stops for a second, an amused smile on her face.

"Careful there, we don't want you to choke." She laughs a throaty laugh and goes to find breakfast. I wonder why Vicente didn't make pancakes or something. Was he trying to impress me or did he feel I needed something with more substance?

Probably the latter. I finish my food and start to feel a little sleepy. If I keep going like this, I'm going to end up keeping vampire hours. I deposit my dish in the kitchen and walk into the main hall.

Very sleepy, zombie versions of each person are having small conversations, some dressed and others wearing pajamas. A Khajiit I've never seen before gives me a dirty look and stalking over.

"If it isn't the newest member of the family. Let's get one thing straight – the Tenets prevent me from killing you, but I don't have to like you. I'll sell you equipment, but only because Ocheeva is making me. This family doesn't need any... outsiders." He bares his teeth at me.

I give him an unimpressed look. "You're not a very scary kitty." I smile maliciously at him, as Lucien had done before. "Just kind of fluffy." His eyes bug open and he looks like he's about to rip me open with his claws, so I dart under his arm and race towards our living quarters. The women's bedroom is empty and quiet, so I slip out of my armor, deposit on the ground next to my bed, and climb in.

My pillow is very soft and soon I find myself drifting away, blackness gripping the edges of my vision until at last, I slip into unconsciousness.

I dream of handsome vampires who cook me meals and strange-looking men with dark hair who scare me..or perhaps it's the other way around…


	5. Mead and Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris gets drunk with her sisters, talks about boys, and gets rejected.

Ocheeva peeks her head into the training room where I swing a greatsword at a dummy. "Zaris, could you _please_ get Vicente to cook tonight? Antoinetta wants to make one of her mutations in the kitchen…" She flicks her forked tongue out between sharp teeth.

I stop my training for a moment, the muscles in my arms a bit sore. "What makes you think I can convince him?" It's been a week since I first showed up, and most of my time has been divided between training and following a certain vampire around, though Tel and Antoinetta keep dragging me away for girls' nights. In fact, we were having a girls' night again today because Gogron is off on a contract, Teinaava has business, and Vicente intends to go hunting later. As for the cat, M'raaj-Dar, as Ocheeva had informed me was his name, he makes sure to stay far away from me already.

The Argonian sighs. "Vicente _adores_ you, Zaris. If you ask, he'll do it."

I shake my head. I'd rather not have to see him right before he goes hunting…or even afterwards. _Hunting_ means drinking blood, and if I was intelligent, I'd know to keep away from him for a few hours. He even warned me that he may not seem himself.

"How about I cook?" I offer. I've cooked plenty of times, though I used to dislike it, mostly because my brothers, when they still lived with my parents, would harass me about being in the kitchen. Somehow, cooking for my Sisters is different.

Ocheeva looks surprised. "Well, sure, that works. You…might want to take a bath first…" She waves a hand around her nose before quickly ducking her head out of the room. I place the greatsword up on to the weapons rack and head towards the living quarters.

The washroom is unoccupied when I arrive, so I begin filling up a tub. The water is magic-heated, so I'm able to quickly get in and relax, the hot water soothing my muscles.

I pick up a bar of soap from where it sits on a table next to the tub and hold it up to my face. Inhaling, the sharp scent of mint tingles in my nose. I begin washing with the soap, running it over my chest and arms, and then massaging it into the long red locks of hair. It's growing so fast that it's almost to butt-length.

I close my eyes and rub my face with the soap, scrubbing to get dirt and sweat off. With my eyes still closed, I slide in the tub to dunk my head and face backwards. I stay under water like that as I run fingers through my hair, filtering soap out.

The tub will magically empty itself, or one of the bone guardians will get it, so I just stand up and grab a towel before stepping onto the cold stone floor. Seeing the bone guardians for the first time had been quite a scare, and Antoinetta had to convince me that they were harmless. They clean everything, though they're unable to speak and just kind of stare at you when you talk to them.

I dry my legs off before wrapping the towel around my torso and securing the tail of it between my breasts. I lean over the tub and begin squeezing water out of my hair when a knock sounds at the door.

I hesitate for a second, fearing that it is Lucien coming to spy on me, though he hasn't done that since I told him off for it. I take a deep breath, and pull it open.

Vicente is standing there holding something in his hands, but when he sees the state I'm in, he looks very embarrassed.

"Ah…this…is…for you." He hands me a glass bottle with a green liquid in it, still looking really awkward. "It's a stamina potion. For your practice. In the training room." He spurts out each part in quick succession, as if he can't find the right words.

"Thank you," I say, smiling. I thought he'd locked himself in his room all day to prepare to go and suck blood, but apparently he was making potions.

He nods at me briefly before backing away and fleeing my presence. I stand there in the doorway for a moment before closing the wooden door. As soon as I'm alone, I giggle quietly to myself at his awkwardness.

I remove the towel and try to dry my hair more, squeezing water out of it methodically. Tossing the towel on the floor, I pick up my armor and begin putting it on.

Once I'm dressed, I sit down and do my hair for the first time in years.; having long hair loose just isn't convenient. Splitting it into three strands, I twist and pull it into a very long, thick braid over my right shoulder. Using a piece of leather I snatched from Vicente's hair-tie collection, I tie a knot.

I pick up Vicente's stamina potion, leave the washroom, and place it next to my bed. The main hall outside the living quarters is very quiet, and I have to strain to hear Tel and Antoinetta talking from the other side of the Sanctuary.

I search around and finally discover the two of them in the dining hall, whispering together and chortling. As soon as they see me enter they stop and look everywhere but at me.

"What's going on here?" I ask, sounding curious.

Antoinetta bites her lip and giggles. "We saw Vicente go to talk to you! Did he see you in the bath? Did he talk to you?" Tel elbows her in the ribs, but she doesn't stop. "It's so cute!"

I give her a strange look as she bombards me with questions, feeling a little overwhelmed. "What's cute?"

She looks confused. "Well, you and him…you know."

"I know?" I repeat absentmindedly. Tel is giving her a sharp look that says _please shut up_ , but Antoinetta ignores her, blonde hair bouncing with her as she rocks on the balls of her feet.

She gives me a really excited look and clenches her fists together. "You two are a thing!"

Suddenly their whispers and laughs makes sense. I raise my hands and shake them. "No no! You got it all wrong! We're not a thing! Vicente and I are just friends!"

Antoinetta narrows her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"It's true!" I insist, rubbing my eyes. Honestly, what would make them think we are a thing? Vicente thinks of me as a child, and he often treats me like one, including making me food and training me. He hasn't made one move to suggest that he thinks of me as anything other than a friend or someone to care for.

"I think you're in denial!" Antoinetta sings, and then streaks out of the room. I growl and stalk to the kitchen to begin making food, throwing cupboards open angrily until I find the ingredients I need. I begin pulling out raspberries, flour, salt and sugar to make pancakes, and milk, butter and eggs which are kept cold by magic on a shelf.

I start by putting a pan on the heating fire to warm up and then mixing the ingredients for the pancake batter. Just as I'm about to pour the batter into the pan, I have that incredibly intense feeling that I'm being _watched_.

"We're having a girls' night, and you're not invited." I say without turning around.

A very female voice laughs. "I was under the impression that I _came up_ with the idea for the girls' night." I look over my shoulder to see Tel looking at me with an amused expression.

"Sorry. Thought you were Lachance." I begin flipping the pancakes and she wanders over to watch.

She scratches a spot on her temple, a confused look on her face. "Why would you think I was Lucien?"

An exasperated groan escapes my lips. "Usually when I think someone's watching me, it's him."

She bites her lip. "That's…kind of funny. Sorry Zaris." A wide grin spreads across her elven features. "Does Antoinetta know he likes to watch you?"

"Oh gods, I hope not." I take cooked pancakes off the pan and place them on a plate before pouring more batter in.

She giggles, and then makes an offer. "Anything I can do to help?"

I shake my head. "Nope. We're just going to have breakfast for dinner."

She nods and pats me on the head, and I continue flipping pancakes.

* * *

 

"So I was like, Lucien, if you are watching me bathe, I swear I will kill you." A chorus of high-pitched giggles follows, and I take another swig of mead. Antoinetta, Ocheeva and Tel managed to convince me to have a drink, and now I'm just telling them everything they ask me about. I can't seem to control my thoughts. I pick at a piece of lint on my off-white dressing gown, the only one I brought when I left home.

We're sitting in the living quarter, having finished eating. My pancakes with raspberries were a success, and then Antoinetta broke out the mead before we went to sit on our beds.

"What'd you do then?" Antoinetta's cheeks are flushed and her eyes unfocused. She's wearing pink pajamas and holding a mug of mead, already on her second tankard full.

"I had to stand up! I couldn't just wait for him to leave, Manheim would get suspicious." I rub under my eyes, which feel heavy from the alcohol. I want to go to sleep, but Ocheeva already warned me that I'll be sick if I do.

Ocheeva chortles a throaty laugh. "So he saw you naked then?" I nod and take another drink, not feeling embarrassed like I should feel. I kind of like not feeling bashful all the time, but I think I'm going to start slurring my words.

"So, Tel, what's your type? Is it Gogron?" Antoinetta wags her eyebrows at the elf, who blushes furiously. She hasn't drank as much as we have, so the question is still a bit awkward for her.

"Gogron is bragging about how he has your underwear," I point out nonchalantly, and Tel's eyes nearly bug out of her head from under her hood. She's the only one not wearing pajamas, still in her armor – even Ocheeva changed into a sleeveless top and shorts, her scaled legs very shapely and muscled.

"He _what_? Oh, I'm going to kill him!" She silently broods, a dark expression on her face.

I turn towards the blonde. "What about you, Antoinetta?"

A sly smile passes over her face. "My type is tall, dark, and _handsome._ " Of course it is. It's not like she doesn't undress Lucien with her eyes every time he is in the room. Somehow I think he's aware of this and avoids her as much as possible.

"Ocheeva?" Tel asks the Argonian, who is slurring her words. She's drank a lot more than us. Her tongue flicks lazily out of her mouth and hangs for a second, like she's having a difficult time controlling the action. We try to quiet our snorting as she tries desperately hard to pull her forked tongue back into her mouth.

"I like men with be-oo-tiful shcales. And they shhould be fiercsh, yet kind." She slurs her words, drawing them out very slowly. Men with beautiful scales? That's something new.

Antoinetta gives me a scary look out of the corner of her eye that says she has some sort of tease planned. "Zar likes men with sharp teeth, red eyes, and nighttime habits." She winks and Tel smiles. Ocheeva laughs throatily, then hiccups. Antoinetta grins again. "No really, what do you like in men?"

I look at the tankard in my hands. I only ever was courted by Tristeran, so I'm not sure what I like in men. "Strength, I suppose." I shrug my shoulders in a hopeless way, and Antoinetta narrows her eyes and places her hands on her hips in a _you-better-tell-me_ way. "I'd like it if he had class and manners," I mumble quickly under my breath. Antoinetta knows that I know someone who fits all of those things, and she smirks.

"If you like him, why don't you tell him so?" She scoots closer, a pillow in her lap, which she hugs and rests her chin on.

I take a long chug of mead, my cheeks burning with blood. "Because I _don't_ like him!"

Antoinetta's eyes narrow in a dangerous way. Quicker than I can follow, a pillow rams into my face, hitting me with the slight scent of lavender. The maniac, malicious-looking blonde jumps up and I'm forced to roll over and push myself to my feet between attacks. The alcohol makes everything I do slow, yet Antoinetta moves like she hasn't been drinking at all.

I grab my pillow, ready to attack. I jump on Antoinetta's bed and swing, but my pillow flies out of my hands and beats Tel in the face.

As soon as it hits the floor, all four of us are engaged in the assassin version of a pillow fight, complete with growling and biting. Antoinetta tackles me to the ground and I bury my teeth in her shoulder, howling like an animal. Tel is cackling as she relentlessly throws pillows at Ocheeva, who jumps on top of Antoinetta, both collapsing on me.

Then Tel jumps and lands on Ocheeva.

Growling, biting, clawing, hitting with pillows, and laughing follows. I'm more than aware of the bruises and scratches I'm going to have all over my arms and face tomorrow.

I try to run away from the group and Tel hooks my ankle with her hand, pulls me to her, and proceeds beating me with her pillow. I beg for mercy while I laugh, downy feathers flying everywhere. They're covering the beds, the floor, caught up in my hair, stuck to the sweat on Tel's face, nestled in Antoinetta's pajamas, and gathering onto Ocheeva's tongue while she tries to wipe them off between smacks of pillow, making gagging noises.

The tankards of mead have been spilled, making the floors and all of us sticky as we roll in it and wrestle.

Just as Tel sits on my back and rubs my face into the sticky floor, and Antoinetta is grappling with the Argonian, a voice sounds at the door.

"I leave you four home alone for just _one_ night..."

We all look up to see the Speaker, his expression a cross between seeing the hottest thing he's ever witnessed and a scowl. Next to him is a slightly humored Vicente Valtieri. Even through my drunken haze, I can see color flushed in his cheeks, which seem fuller than usual. He looks healthy, and mostly human. Handsome, even…

Lucien glares at us. "Please tell me one of you plans on cleaning this up." Then he's gone, stomping away.

Vicente gives me one last look, expressionless, before following the grumpy boss-man. We stay frozen for a moment, still in a slight state of shock at seeing the Speaker scold us, then Antoinetta is helping Ocheeva to her feet, and Tel is getting up and wrapping her arms around my waist, pulling my face-first off the floor.

"So much for that," I say with a little grin, and slowly each girl starts laughing until our sides are about to burst.

"Did you _see_ the expression on his face? He looked like it was his lucky day." Tel guffaws and I'm bent over, holding in the drunken-induced chortling. I'm not sure what about it is so funny, but it is.

"I think," I say slowly once I straighten up, weaving a little on my feet, "I'm going to go see Vicente."

Antoinetta giggles to herself and winks at me, which I ignore.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, maybe." I stumble my way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

The main room is dim with only a few candles lit. A light shines down the tunnel from Ocheeva's and Vicente's rooms. I move towards the tunnel , weaving slightly.

As I turn the corner, holding onto the wall for support, I can see that the door to Vicente's room is open and Lucien is pacing it, like a caged animal. I overhear him talking.

"I just don't know. If someone within our ranks is picking off…" He trails off, seeing me near. Vicente looks past the Speaker and his focus glues on me.

"I'll just talk to you later." Lucien waves his hand in a dismissal sort of way and trails past me, his eyes scanning me up and down before he passes.

I hold onto the door frame, still weak on my feet from the mead. "Hi."

I watch Vicente's eyes move from mine to my hair, and then the state of my nightgown. "Did you have fun?" He asks, a small smile on his lips, which are unusually pink for him.

"You look nice," I blurt, and try to move my way to the chair, stumbling into it by accident. Everything spins slightly, and I can see the vampire giving me a rather concerned look.

"How drunk are you?" He steps closer to me and kneels down so he's at face-level while I sit in the chair, picking feathers out of my hair.

"I don't know," I mutter, and he stands up. I watch him walk to a cabinet, pull a wooden bowl out, and magically fill it with water. He pulls a rag from out of his dresser and places it in the water before squeezing it out. Then he kneels back in front of me and lifts the washcloth to my face, rubbing the sticky mead from my cheeks.

I sit there in my drunken silence, my eyelids heavy, while Vicente methodically cleans my face and hair.

 _Vicente_ adores _you, Zaris._ The words from earlier ring in my ears. Adores, perhaps, but he doesn't like me. Antoinetta is wrong.

My eyes scan his as he works, focused on cleaning the mead off. He looks _years_ younger than he did, young even. The hard lines and gaunt cheeks are replaced with a certain youthfulness that could trick me into thinking he's only in his early thirties, not over three hundred. His eyes are no longer red, but deep amber brown.

"You look _really_ nice," I mumble, then mentally scold myself. I didn't mean to say that out loud; that was just an observation.

He pauses for a second, and his eyes connect with mine. "Thank you." A small smile crosses his lips.

He gets up and stands behind my chair as he continually dips the rag, getting it wet, giving it a slight squeeze so it still has water in it, and then rubbing down my red hair, which he has freed from its leather band. I'm certain he probably knows it's his, but he doesn't say anything. His hands are gentle on my head, and after a moment I can feel it being twisted back into a braid. He re-ties it, and slips it over my shoulder.

"Do you have something else to wear?" He leaves the bowl and rag on the table next to a pile of dirty feathers stuck together, the water in the bowl discolored to a murky tan. I pick at the sleeve of my only nightgown. It has feathers stuck to the mead staining it.

"No." I don't know why he is doing this. Vicente doesn't give this kind of attention to anyone, even Lucien, yet he does for me.

He begins digging through a dresser, his back to me. I stare at his slender figure. He's thin, but not weak. I know his strength from having trained with him.

 _Strength. Class and manners_.

No, go away. I try to dismiss my earlier thoughts of what I'd like in a guy, but my heart starts pounding, and I know he can hear it which makes it worse.

He pulls out a silk, black button-down shirt before turning around. It's written plainly on his face that he can hear my heartbeat, an unspoken question in his eyes.

He hands the shirt to me. "You can wash your clothes in the morning. Wear this." He reaches out a hand to pull me to my feet, and I can tell he's questioning why my heart is beating so hard.

As soon as I'm on my feet, it happens faster than I can stop it. I reach for his neck and pull him towards me, pressing my lips against him. He's warm from the blood running through him, and it's almost like kissing an actual human.

He's still for a moment, my arms around his neck, and then he's pushing me off. I try not to look at him, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"No, Zaris." He pulls me away from him, and then grabs my chin, lifting it up so I have to make eye contact with him. "You're drunk."

"I still feel the same whether I am drunk or not." I bite my lip hard, scanning his face.

He closes his eyes and sighs, releasing my chin. "I'm sorry if I've led you on, Zaris. I don't feel that way about you." He withdraws away from me, leaving me standing with his shirt. He stands at the table, his back to me.

Something inside me cracks just a bit. I _told_ Antoinetta…I said he didn't…and then I let myself believe he did. _How_ could I be so silly?

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and back out of his room. He doesn't turn to look at me as I leave, and somehow I feel like I've done something wrong, like I'm dirty…

When I return to the living quarters, the other girls are already passed out on their beds, still sticky and feathered. I change out of my nightgown and hold his shirt in hand, debating. Finally, I slip it on. It's bigger than I am and hangs off my shoulders, the sleeves too long. I button it up and admire the way the soft silk feels against my skin.

I walk over to the candles and blow them out, still weaving a bit on my feet. I stumble through the dark to my bed and climb in.

I lie there in the dark for a while fighting with myself, until finally, tears well up in my eyes. I reach up to wipe them away, and freeze for a moment, pressing Vicente's sleeve to my nose. It smells like styrax-scented soap, the scent Vicente always smells like. Why did Antoinetta bring up liking him? I wouldn't be here if she hadn't suggested I might have feelings for him, and now I want to turn them off.

I turn over on my bed and face the wall, tears still slipping down my cheeks and moistening the fabric. I close my heavy eyelids and feel myself slip under.

Sometime during the night I swear I feel breath against my ear and a whisper. "I'm sorry. Sleep well."

It could just be my dreams, though.

* * *

 

**Next chapter Zaris gets her first contract and we start really going into the storyline of the Dark Brotherhood. Thank you for reading! I've commissioned a drawing of Zaris, though it is going to take a bit of time, however I'll be sure to let you guys know when it's done!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Styrax is an herbal scent that's a mix of wood and cinnamon; it can be used as frankincense. Also called storax.


	6. Solar Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris goes on her first contract and gets a surprise reward for her work.

I open my eyes to the light of morning, or as light as it can get underground. Candles have been lit and mage lights bob in the corners of each room. My blanket has been tucked around my body and over my shoulders with deft fingers, though I can't imagine Antoinetta, Tel or even Ocheeva going through such an effort; it wasn't like I was cold during the night.

As I try to untangle myself, I realize I slept with my hair done in the same braid Vicente put it in.

Oh. _Him_.

I remember last night and sigh. He's a really good friend and I know I probably made things awkward for us…why did I do something so stupid? I groan inwardly. The worst part is that I wish I could kiss him _again_. Honestly, romance and mushy stuff…not my thing.

I need to ask Vicente for a contract today…maybe I can apologize at the same time.

After I dress, bathe, and eat, I return to my room and grab _The Mystery of Talara: Part I_ from my chest. I return to the quiet main hall and lay down on a bench with the book.

I sit unbothered while reading thanks to a busy day in the Dark Brotherhood. Antoinetta darts in and out on contracts, Tel is enchanting her weapons and making potions, M'raaj-Dar is busy shooting spells during practice, and everybody else wanders around doing whatever they usually do when there isn't work. Lucien Lachance climbs down the ladder from the well (I say climb, but I really mean more like _fell_ ), and darts off down the hall, probably to wake up a certain nocturnal vampire.

I ignore him and return to my book. Lady Jyllia is trying to convince Ramke that she is not Princess Talara when…

"Zarissis." My name breaks through the cloud fogging my mind as I escape, and I look up to see Vicente standing a few feet away. The warmth and color that was in his cheeks yesterday has gone away, and he's a little thinner than he was. His eyes are darker amber than they were, but I can see no visible emotions on his face other than a rather stern look.

"Come with me." I hesitate for a moment. "You're not in trouble," he clarifies, clearing his throat. I set the book down on the bench and follow next to him to his room. The walk is nerve-racking for me, and he doesn't say anything more to me. Did I ruin our friendship by kissing him?

When we enter, Lucien Lachance is nowhere to be found; I probably didn't see him leave. Vicente turns to face me and clears his throat. "I have your first contract, if you'd like it."

I give a slight nod of my head. "I'd like it."

He smiles, but it isn't genuine. His eyes remain emotionless. "Good. Here is what you must do. Go to the Waterfront District of the Imperial City; there you will find a ship named the _Marie Elena_. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tussaud. He'll be in his cabin. Eliminate Tussaud in any manner you see fit." The vampire pauses for a moment. "The pirates have been moving a lot of cargo onboard lately. You may be able to smuggle yourself on board in one of the packing crates… Oh, and one more thing. Get into the habit of asking your fellow family members about any current contract; their insight may prove invaluable."

I nod my head to each piece of information he gives me, committing it to memory. When he is done, he turns his back to me and rustles through some papers on a stand.

I get the feeling I am being dismissed, though I desperately want to talk to him. I open my mouth, hesitating for a moment. He can probably hear my heartbeat…

"Vicente," I begin, exhaling deeply. He looks over his shoulder at me.

"Don't." I go to open my mouth to protest, but instead he whips around to face me. "I think you ought to go."

"At least let me apologize! I don't want you to be this way around me," I motion up and down at him, "emotionless, cold. I just want you to be _yourself_. I didn't mean to ruin our friendship."

His expression doesn't change, even after I'm done speaking. "You have work to do." I sigh, though it almost sounds like a growl, and stomp out of his room. The door closes behind me and I feel a little rejected.

I can't wait to kill someone.

* * *

 

I spent the next part of the day asking the various members about ways to sneak onboard the ship. They give me tips about the balcony and what to do if I get caught. I'm feeling a little nervous around night fall, and every fast movement makes me jump.

A clatter of footsteps behind me makes me reach instinctively for the Blade of Woe and spin around.

"Easy, little Sister." Gogron smiles a toothy grin and pats me on the shoulder, though it's a little too hard and jars my neck. I wince in pain. "Oops," he apologizes, and attempts to dust me off as gently as he can.

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your first contract. You'll do fine." I smile back at him and wrap my arms around his large torso in a hug, which he – very, very softly – returns.

"Thank you!" I feel a little more relaxed and pat the Orc on the arm. He's about to say something more when a Speaker comes flying down the well, landing in a puddle of black robes.

"Vicente!" He shouts and goes dashing down the hall, his dark brown nearly black hair mussed every which way. Gogron and I watch as he goes.

"Sometimes," I begin, holding back a giggle, "Sometimes I think him and Vicente are secret lovers."

A moment of silence passes between us before Gogron's deep, throaty laughter begins building up in his throat. "Ahahaha! AHAHA!"

The Orc doubles over, holding his arms around his stomach, guffawing like a bellow. Antoinetta peeks her head out from the training room.

"What's so funny?" Her blue eyes are confused.

Gogron only laughs harder and I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

She gives me a suspicious look and slowly backs up, her head disappearing from view. Gogron is wiping tears from his eyes as he picks himself up off the ground.

I pat him on the head. "I should be going now. Don't want to keep Sithis waiting." Gogron nods, still grinning ear to ear.

"Good luck, little Sister."

I nod my head and pull my hood over my face before darting to the entrance of the Sanctuary. A bone guardian clatters his teeth at me and I give him a little wave before ducking out of the Black Door.

* * *

 

I arrive in the Waterfront district in the Imperial City a few hours later, the moon shining brightly overhead. There are no clouds, which means the night isn't as dark as I'd like, but I can still hide in the deepest shadows.

Let's see, Vicente mentioned packing crates outside the ship for the cargo bay. As I round a corner, I see the massive ship looming overhead. I've never really seen ships before…I didn't live near the water. Dirt and dust were my friends.

I duck into an alleyway as a pirate strolls by, singing a ditty loudly. A female Dunmer pirate scowls into the dark and leans against a crate, her red eyes scanning the shadows for anything that might seem out of place. Her eyes rest on my location for a moment, and then flicker onwards. I know I can't make my move yet or she'll see me, so I stay crouched down in the shadows.

Lady Luck smiles upon me. A drunken pirate staggers out of an alley.

"He'ey, my Dumm'r beau'y!" He slurs his words, and the Dark Elf rolls her eyes.

"You better back the hell off, or you'll find a knife to your throat." She flashes white teeth through her purple lips, but the pirate ignores her, scuffling towards her. She draws her sword and approaches him, passing my spot. I see my chance and carefully slide against the wall until her back is to me. As I scuttle towards the crates, I can see one with the top slightly ajar. Perfect size, if I can fit…

As I reach the crates, I look back at the pirates. The drunk one falls forward, catching himself on the Dunmer's breasts. She growls and punches him hard in the face.

As quickly as I can manage, I slip into the crate and curl up in a ball before pulling the lid back over. Now as long as I can get in and out without being discovered, killed, drowned, or on the ship when it leaves for sea…

I lay there in the dark for a while listening to different pirates come and go, some singing songs, and others swearing and telling foul jokes and stories. I wrinkle my nose.

I don't like men who are rough and swear a lot. I like calm gentle ones, who are gentlemen, even if cold-blooded killers… even if they were a _vampire_ …

No. It's just a fascination. It will pass. He doesn't want me, after all. I'm practically his _dinner_.

I bite down hard on my lip when loud voices near the crates. The footsteps get closer, something scrapes against the stone, and disappears again. I imagine they're lifting each crate and putting them on the ship. The pirates tell obscene jokes about raping women and I wince. Something inside me desperately wants to rip their throats out…

I hold my breath and hope they can't hear my heartbeat pound as they near my hiding spot. The crate I'm in shifts and I start feeling a little cramped as I'm rocked against each side as they carry me to what I think must be the cargo part of the ship. I wince as they drop the box. It lands with a thud and I jerk uncomfortably.

Damn Vicente, had to pick the most uncomfortable way to get onto a ship…I almost growl thinking about him. He keeps coming into my head when I don't want him to...something about him has me tied up in knots inside. I want to pull his hair out of its tie and run my fingers through it. I want to touch his gaunt face and cheekbones...

No. Stop. Stay focused. I breathe in an out silently. Where did all these feelings come from? Were they always there? I did spend a lot of my time hanging out with him…but I _always_ thought of him as a friend, right?

The footsteps place the last crate and disappear, fading down the hall. I sit in my darkened box for what feels like another hour before feeling comfortable that they are gone. I push the top off and pull myself out.

The cargo bay is empty apart from the crates, and I pull the Blade of Woe from its sheath. Stalking quietly, I peep around a corner where some bookshelves sit, a couple potions scattered on their surface.

Its all clear and I dart down the hall, only ducking into a room as a pirate walks by, whistling. I run through another door, and down a hall. Laughing greets my ears, and just as I spin into a room with a stairwell, two pirates turn around to face me.

"Well, well, look what we have here? Such a pretty face." One of the pirates grins wickedly, his eyes scanning me up and down.

"And curvy in all the right spots. If we don't kill her, she might make a good toy." The other advances, dirty blonde hair tied back. A _toy_?

My heart starts pounding in my ears, but not from fear. I'm _nobody's_ toy, and certainly will not be used for sex.

I launch myself at them, my vision turning red. The man reaches for his weapon, but pulls it out a tad too late. My dagger buries in his chest and his shirt blooms red. The unsheaved weapon falls to the ground with a clatter, and the other man flies at me.

I deflect his attack and stab him in the stomach. He groans and I shove him over before climbing on his torso.

"You'll regret what you said in the Void, pirate." I spit in his face before slashing the Blade of Woe across his neck. Blood gushes from his arteries and covers my arms and face. I don't really know what I'm doing, but I find myself physically ripping his throat apart with my hands, my gloves blood-coated.

When my rage subsides, I stand up and step back.

Blood covers the floor and more drains from the mangled body. My arms are covered in it, as is my chest and face. I can _smell_ it, the thick metallic scent sticking to my nose. I should be afraid, but I'm not. I'm indifferent to it, as though their words justified my actions.

I hesitate for a moment before leaving the men and continuing down the hall. I leave bloody footprints behind, which is very sloppy, but if I jump off the Captain's balcony into the water, I can wash it away.

 _Vicente will still be able to smell it on you_ , I tell myself. I know that's true.

I rush up the stairwell at the end and encounter a few more pirates. Launching myself at them, I fly between the three, and one aggressively charges for me. I duck down and slide between his legs as his sword buries itself in his comrade's chest. He growls and turns around. I block the attacks of their female pirate, black hair flying as she lashes out. One of Vicente's moves triggers in my mind, and I hook my foot behind her ankle, pulling it towards me. She falls backwards and I bury my dagger between her breasts and into her chest before pulling it out and rolling away from the last pirate's move. I push myself to my feet and jump on his back, my arms around his neck. He struggles and I release him before slicing his neck.

I reach the Captain's door after sneaking down the hall, managing to avoid some drunken pirates. I have to be quick because I know soon they'll discover the bodies and, well…that won't go over too nicely.

My lockpicking is getting better and I'm able to open his door with only a couple broken picks. Captain Tussaud lies sleeping in a corner, and I carefully close his door before locking it.

I hold the bloody Blade of Woe in my hands as I approach his bed. He sleeps soundly, other than the periodic snoring he does. So peaceful.

I smile maliciously as I bury the blade in his throat, blood gushing over the sheets. I never thought it would make me happy, but it does. Killing makes me feel _free_. I'm a serial killer now, a cutthroat murderer, but the liberation of being able to do whatever I want makes my job worth it.

Tussaud's eyes fly open briefly before his life ends and his soul joins Sithis's Void. I wipe my blade on his bed sheets and sheave it.

I jump as banging sounds at the door. "Captain! There's an intruder on the ship!" The doorknob jiggles, and I thank the Night Mother I had the sense to lock it again. "Captain!"

Without thinking, I run to the glass door leading to the balcony, throw it open, and race to the ledge. I push off the balcony and cold water rushes around my head, washing the blood off of my armor.

I panic for a moment. I learned how to swim once, but it was a long, long time ago…how do I move again?

My arms thrash underwater as I sink, accidentally inhaling a bubble of liquid. I choke and my arms, almost on their own, remember how to move.

I don't know how, but I'm pulling myself out of the water as I choke up the clear liquid onto the sand. It was a mostly clean getaway, apart from the near-death experience. I sit in the dark on the sand bank looking across to the Waterfront District, feeling miserable and cold, before I finally find the strength to move.

* * *

 

It is daylight when I get back to the Sanctuary, sneezing slightly. A bone guardian greets me at the Black Door, chattering his teeth. I'm frozen to the bone and my hair is mussed up.

When I walk into the main hall, Antoinetta sees me and comes springing forward.

"Is it done? Is he dead?" She pauses for a second, her brow wrinkling. "Are you okay?"

I wave her off, walking towards Vicente's chambers to report on my contract. "Yes, he's dead, I'm just _cold_."

"Oh. Go ask your lover to warm you up!" I give her a dirty look and she grins before bouncing towards the training room. Likely my 'lover' as she likes to think of him as will only congratulate me and send me on my way. I bitterly grind my teeth and turn the corner. I miss when he used to care.

His door is closed, and I remember that he is probably sleeping. I raise my hand to knock, then hesitate. If I wake him, he might be angry, and I don't want to see an angry vampire.

"You can come in," a muffled voice sounds from behind the door. I crack it open and step in.

His room is pitch black and I feel slightly uncomfortable, apart from being cold. "Am I disturbing your sleep?"

Vicente sighs from somewhere near his stone slab for a bed. "No, Antoinetta's voice woke me up. She always manages to squeal when you're near her. Did everything go okay?"

The dank of the dark begins setting into my bones and I shiver. "Tussaud is dead."

Vicente whispers something and a dim mage light floats to the ceiling, lightly the room slightly. Vicente's hair is tied back, but slightly mussed up. He wears black robes overtop of a black shirt I suspect might have been the one I wore to bed. He sits on the slab, looking at me.

"Excellent. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased." Vicente stands up, but freezes in his path. His nostrils flare and he makes a face at me. "Did you _slaughter_ Tussaud? You smell like the blood and death of an army."

I bite my lip so hard it burns. "There were pirates, and umm, they said some things I wasn't really okay with."

The vampire is quiet for a moment before a slight smirk passes over his lips. He's being friendly, and despite the cold in my bones, warmth fills my chest.

"I'll be sure to let Lucien know what will happen to him if he crosses you." His smirk fades to a frown. "You're very cold."

I clear my throat, remembering my incident with the water. "I forgot how to swim." My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I almost drowned, which was silly. Imagine the horror! The newest member of the Dark Brotherhood _drowning_ on her first contract.

The tired lines on Vicente's face turn up into a smile, and he steps towards me. I almost back up instinctively, but I manage to stop myself, instead staring at him in confusion.

He places his cold hands on my cheeks and my heart begins pounding wildly at his touch. I try to make myself calm down, but I can't. I can't even hold myself together in front of the vampire who can hear my heartbeat.

He whispers something gently. Out of the corner of my vision, I see a red glow spread from his palms and sink into my skin. Immediately my body begins filling with warmth, and I shudder from the sudden change.

His hands leave my face. "Better?"

"Yes, much." I feel a little dizzy from the sudden change, but mostly because I was so up close to him. I'm angry with myself for feeling like a school girl – I shouldn't be so silly.

Vicente hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning my face. "I'm sorry, about earlier, and the day before."

My heart calms down and I start feeling confused. "That's…okay. Why are you apologizing?" I pull my lip into my teeth and bite down.

The vampire's gaunt features look troubled. "Because I hurt you – don't say I didn't, because I could _hear_ you crying." His eyes leave mine and focus somewhere over my shoulder, eyebrows pulled together in a slightly distressed way.

I frown. He's right. I release my lip from the death hold by my teeth. "Don't worry about it; you don't like me, that's life." My teeth return to my lip, sucking it in. It's a subconscious thing; I don't even notice it.

Vicente sighs and his eyes return to my face. There's something new I never noticed in his eyes, a different expression. "Zaris, what if I told you I – " He freezes mid sentence and his eyes dart down to my mouth. "What are you doing?"

I release my lip and the metallic taste of blood blooms on my tongue. I didn't realize I was biting it so hard it would…shit. _Bleed. Blood._

A smile breaks over his lips, though it's not menacing. A kind expression is in his eyes and he reaches up, brushing one hand gently over my cheek.

What is going on? My heart starts pounding in my chest at his touch. He steps towards me. I'm bleeding…he should be attacking me. What is this? What is he _doing?_

His other hand reaches around and cups the back of my neck. He pulls me close and leans in.

Vicente's lips are very, very cold against mine. He's not demanding – he's as gentle as he is when touching me, his lips caressing mine like a song. My arms wrap around his neck.

I feel like the entire world is spinning in all directions as he sucks my lip into his mouth, likely tasting my blood. It feels all too good, and if this is what he'll do, then I'll gladly bite my lip anytime.

Then he's nudging my lips open and kissing me passionately, more passionately than I've ever known. One of his arms wraps around my waist and pulls me against him. Heat floods through my body, warming parts of me that I didn't know could feel that way.

One of his hands tangles in my hair, releasing my braid. He runs his hand through, breaking up the braid, and waves topple down my back. I've never felt so alive.

His lips release me and he's breathing against me, his forehead pushed to mine. My hands caress his cheekbones. He's the most beautiful person I've ever met, and I think I've hopelessly fallen.

His hands hold the back of my head and neck. Vicente's red eyes gleam with a sort of admiration. He pulls me against him in a hug.

He still smells like styrax soap, and I like it a lot. His arms wrap possessively around me, and I can't help but feel like I'm living in a really good dream.

"Has anyone told you you're prettier than a solar eclipse?" I can't see his face because my head is pressed against his chest, given I'm shorter than him, but his hand runs through my hair. The choice of words makes me smile – of course a vampire would compare me to a solar eclipse.

"No, but I'm sure I'll hear a lot of moon-related things about my beauty, coming from you." I grin into the fabric of his tunic. He chuckles deeply.

"Perhaps." We stay like that for a while; him, possessively holding me. Me, allowing him to run his hands through my hair and over my back.

Oh dear Sithis, I am _never_ going to hear the end of it from Antoinetta when she finds out what happened.

* * *

  
**Sorry about how long it took to get this chapter out! I've been sick D: Anyhow, I commissioned Hyascinthe from DeviantArt to draw Zarissis!**

**Here she is: http://hyascinthe.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d5tfgbl**

**Hya is also having a sale on her commission portraits, so stop by and check her out.**


	7. Chapter 7: The Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris is apprehended by Lucien, fulfills a contract, and gets some tongue action.

When I open my eyes, I'm lying wrapped up in blankets on my bed, and I can hear the family talking loudly doing whatever they do in the main hall. I groan. Vicente must have carried me in here last night. After he kissed me, we stayed up talking for hours. I told him about my first kill…with Tristeran…

I don't know why I would have told him about that. It was the hardest thing for me to accept, and still I can't grasp my mind around what he would have done if I hadn't killed him. I still have the scars on my ribs to remind me.

I run my hand through my hair, only slightly waved now that I've been sleeping on it. Did Vicente kiss me only because I was bleeding…or did he mean it?

I swing my legs out of bed and wince. Sleeping in my armor is _definitely_ something I don't want to repeat. Vicente was able to spell them clean so they didn't smell like blood, fish and water, but _sleeping_ in them has made me stiff.

Sitting on the edge, I grab a hair tie from my bedside table and begin to braid my hair over my shoulder again. I tie it off and stand up, hooking the Blade of Woe into my belt buckle.

Almost as soon as I leave the bed chambers, Antoinetta is practically falling over me.

"We saw Vicente carry you to bed! Did he kiss you? Did you guys, you know, do it?" She grabs my arms and begins shaking me. I glance over my shoulder with some relief that the main hall is rather empty, other than a slightly confused Lucien staring at us from where he sits mixing potions.

"Antoinetta!" I shout, unable to find the words to say while she jerks me around. "Not here!"

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I'm being pulled back to the bed chambers and through the door to the wash room. She shuts the door and folds her arms over her chest expectantly, giving me a look that suggests I better spill the beans or shit will go down.

"He kissed me," I sigh out, and her eyes bug out. She bounces from foot to foot. "But I was bleeding on my lip."

She ignores the last part, and instead begins quizzing me. "Was it nice? Did he bite you? Was his mouth warm?"

I wince, the questions a little too personal for my liking. "Yes, no, and no…his mouth was very cold."

Antoinetta looks like she's about to faint. I hope to Sithis that Vicente can't hear this, or I'll be afraid to look him in the eye. "Did you guys do it?"

"No!" I shout defensively. "I don't do that, not with men. Not with anybody."

The last part is met with a slow frown and then a glare. "You haven't even thought about having sex? With anyone?"

I bite my lip, which doesn't hurt. A quick pass of my tongue over it confirms that there is no wound…but I know for fact it was bleeding, so why isn't there a scab? I dismiss the distraction and sigh as an answer to her demand. "No, I haven't. "

Her face pulls into a look of disbelieving shock. "That's impossible! Everyone thinks about sex!"

"Not me. It has never been important…"

"I should tell him to take you to bed!" She breaks into a large smile and my blood runs cold.

"NO!" I seize her arm and try to hold her back from the door. "Please Antoinetta don't. Oh Night Mother, save me…please don't! You'll embarrass me! I don't want that!"

What the hell is the matter with her? That's so disturbing; Vicente would certainly freak out. He'd think I was running my mouth about it. I wouldn't be able to face him.

At last, Antoinetta relents. "Fine." She crosses her arms. "I can't believe you've never lain with a man though…"

I don't know what to say, so I stand there awkwardly for a second, and Antoinetta opens the door. She winks at me.

"Glad you had fun last night."

I mutter thanks, then follow her back out to the main hall, feeling slightly embarrassed.

My heart nearly stops when I see Lucien and Vicente deep in conversation. Both turn to face us when we enter, Lucien still looking slightly confused, and Vicente with a slight smile blooming across his face when he sees me.

Anxiety bubbles up in my stomach and my heart skips. Did he hear everything? Probably. Antoinetta has a way of shouting everything she says.

"Everything…okay?" Lucien has one dark eyebrow raised, his deep eyes studying us both.

"Yeah," I mutter. Vicente motions for me to follow him, and we're heading back to his room. He closes the door, and I'm looking into his red eyes.

"I have another contract for you, if you're willing to accept it." He shuffles through several pieces of parchment lying on the table, slanted writing scaled across it. I peek over when I'm sure he isn't looking. Two curled 'L's loop into each other under my name.

Did Lucien suggest me for this contract? I bite my lip. "Sure, I'll take it."

Vicente looks up from the papers, looking pleased, and then his eyes focus on the movement of my mouth. I freeze, and so does he.

He pulls his eyes away and looks back at his papers. "We need you to stage an...accident. Kill the target in the manner specified, and you'll receive a considerable bonus. The target is a Bosmer named Baenlin. You will find him in his home in Bruma. Enter secretly and avoid his manservant, Gromm." He looks up and smiles at me, but the emotion isn't forced. When it comes to being an assassin, there's one thing we can all agree and feel comfortable talking about: killing.

Over my time in the Brotherhood, blood and death have been everyday occurances and casual topics at the dinner table. Honestly…I like it, a lot. Maybe that's why loving a vampire isn't a big deal to me.

Vicente continues, his red eyes making contact with my chartreuse ones. "On the second floor is a secreted door leading to a crawlspace. Inside are the fastenings of a mounted head that hangs over Baenlin's favorite chair. Loosen the fastenings any night between 8:00 pm and 11:00 pm, and the head will surely fall on Baenlin as he relaxes in his chair, as is custom. If Baenlin is killed in any other manner, or if the manservant Gromm is killed, you will forfeit the bonus. Now go, and may Sithis be with you." He nods to me and the adrenalin threatens to rush into my blood.

My second contract. This is what I want to do – kill.

"It will be done."

"Good," Vicente's voice is a dangerous purr, and I grin at him. "Oh, Zaris? I have your payment for your first contract." He hands me a fat coin purse and I open the drawstrings, peeking inside.

The gold coins glitter at me, layered on top of each other. This is more money than I've ever had. I nod my thanks at him and leave the chambers, closing the ancient, wooden door behind me. It isn't night yet, so I head to the training room for some practice.

The room is empty when I enter it. Pulling out the Blade of Woe, I step towards a training dummy and rush forward, slicing a neat cut through the worn and beaten leather.

The door opens from behind me and I look over my shoulder. Lucien closes it and sweeps over to where I stand. He picks up a sword and swings it in a circle with an expert hand.

"Heard you did well on your first contract. Congratulations." The Speaker approaches me, sword ready, and lashes out.

I dodge out of the way, barely missing the tip of the blade. He jumps forward and advances, slashing out every which way.

I can hardly follow the flash of metal as I duck, jump, roll, and slide away. A menacing smile slides onto his face, and he kicks his foot out, hooking it behind my ankle. I fall to the floor with a squeal and thump.

The next moment Lucien is inches away from my face, kneeling on top of me.

"I see what Vicente sees in you. Spirit, and beauty. To be fair, though, you were mine before you were his." Lucien's maniac eyes glimmer with something I don't particularly like.

"I don't belong to anybody, especially _you_." My voice is full of venom. The last thing I like is a man holding me down telling me I belong to him. I try to roll away buy Lucien's hand grips my hair close to the scalp, and he covers my mouth when I go to yelp.

"What do you see in him that you don't see in me?" The question isn't really directed at me. Lucien's eyes are fixed in the space above my head, not really staring at anything.

"He's a gentleman, and you're not." My voice is a low growl from behind his hand, and the Speaker looks back down at me, moving his hand to hold my neck in a firm grip.

"A gentleman? A _gentleman?_ " Lucien begins laughing uncontrollably, his voice deep and silky. "You're delusional. He's a _vampire_. I've seen him rip the guts out of innocent people and suck their blood. I've seen him tear the flesh off of his enemies until you can't even tell what they are. And you think he's a gentleman."

"He doesn't force himself on me, or hold me down." My voice quivers, and Lucien narrows his gaze at me, realizing I just showed him my weakness.

"And what do you call last night? Oh yes, I do know." He answers my unspoken surprise with a large grin. "He's my _best friend_. He tells me everything. Your lip was _bleeding_. He wouldn't have kissed you otherwise."

I shake my head in disbelief, but Lucien ignores me. "Don't believe me? Ask him yourself. You're young and innocent. You still believe in love. Well let me tell you one thing – neither of _us_ believe in love, so get it out of your head. We're killers. Besides, why would a three-hundred year old vampire fall for a _nineteen year old girl?"_ His smirk is cold, and something inside me wants to break again.

I don't want to believe it, but I do. He's right; it's silly for me to assume Vicente will love me. He _is_ a vampire…and a killer. And I'm me. Besides, this is a job, and I shouldn't be looking for love in the Dark Brotherhood. I've been silly.

Lucien smiles and I know he realizes he's won. It's written plainly on my face. He releases me and pushes himself to his feet.

"We're killers, not romantics."

With a smirk, he leaves the training room, the door slamming behind him. I stand there, not sure what to feel. I don't _want_ to believe him.

* * *

It only takes a little asking around to figure out where Baenlin's home is. I rent an inn and stay there until night falls, then I sneak out.

The door to Baenlin's basement has an easy lock on it. I snigger to myself. Why do these people think such pathetic locks will keep them safe?

The door clicks open after a few tries and one broken lockpick. I drop inside and pull the trapdoor closed, submerging myself into darkness.

Alright, I have something to admit: I'm a little afraid of the dark. Vicente would _laugh_. For Sithis's sake, I'm an _assassin._ We kill in the _dark_.

Fuck me.

I stand there, leaning against the wall, for what feels like ages. Finally, my eyes begin to adjust and I can make out shapes in the blackness.

I feel my way past barrels filled with foodstuff and sacks of tomatoes to a stairwell. I almost trip on the first step and catch myself on the wall. I thank Sithis quietly in my head that I didn't fall and make noise.

At the top of the stairs is a door, and a very quiet attempt at opening it proves it to be locked. My heart begins pounding in my ears as I silently slip a lockpick out of my pocket and insert it into a keyhole, holding my breath. _Click_ , _click,_ click. After a few quick jimmies, the lock pops open and I turn the handle, shouting prayers to the Night Mother in my head.

The door opens slightly, no customary squeak of old hinges attached. Lady Luck smiles upon me. I slip through into a dimly lit room, but I'm hidden behind a wall. I can hear a chair groan as someone shifts in it.

I freeze, listening intently. No other noise follows the movement besides the crackle of a fireplace behind the wall.

I press closely into the shadows and scale the room towards a staircase, where I think I may find the crawl space. Let's see…yes, there it is. From my concealed corner I can see Baenlin sitting below a mounted trophy. I need to get upstairs.

His man-servant sits next to him, nodding off quietly. Perfect. Their distraction allows me to dart up the staircase, though I'm careful not to make any noise. My soft footsteps don't creak on the old wood, and I'm on the second floor before I realize it, my heart thumping in my chest.

I peek into each room upstairs, making sure I'm alone. Finally, I reach a room that I think might be above the living area where Baenlin sits.

If I had a trapdoor leading to a mounted trophy, where would I put it? In a wall probably. I walk over to the wall and knock as quietly as I can. Nope, not hallow.

I repeat the process periodically throughout the room until _thump thunk_. The knock echoes slightly. _Hallow_. I push on the wall, which comes loose. Sliding it as quietly as I can, it pulls back to reveal a crawlspace.

I leave the door open in case I have to get out in a hurry. I push my way inside and approach the back where I can see the ties for the trophy.

With my gloved hands, I pick at them, undoing the metal wiring holding the trophy up. It creaks slightly, and with the last undone tie, crashes to the ground.

A moment of silence follows the crash, and then…

"Oh gods, no, Baenlin!" His bodyguard's voice drifts up to me. He's quiet for a moment, then I hear his footsteps echo to the other side of the house. I quickly push my way out of the crawlspace, put the trapdoor back, and rush down the stairs.

The bodyguard is likely getting help, as Baenlin lies dead and bleeding on the floor. I rush past to the basement door, open it, close it as quietly as I can, and sneak through the dark.

My eyes adjust to the dark quicker, and I push my way to the back, fingering the handles of the basement door. It opens with ease and I pull myself out.

The moon gleams quietly above and I sneak along the back of the city wall before rushing off, my assassination unnoticed by anyone. I staged the accident and fulfilled the Night Mother's wishes.

As I climb over the wall (I'm not willing to risk going through the gates in case someone recognizes my armor), I give a quick prayer of thanks to the Night Mother and Sithis for allowing me to escape safely.

* * *

The Sanctuary is quiet when I return, the day almost breaking. Everyone is still asleep; well, everyone besides a certain resident vampire.

My heart races at the idea of going to see him. Lucien said he didn't care about me…but I don't know if I can completely trust the man. I mean he is the Speaker; however, he's also watched me bathe, and I'm not comfortable with that.

I walk down the hall, mostly able to see in the dark. There is no light coming from Vicente's room, so I knock on the door.

"Come in."

I open at his voice. No light greets my eyes and I step into the pitch black room and close the door. Strange, I felt so vulnerable and scared to be in the dark in Baenlin's basement, yet I feel completely safe shut in a lightless room with a vampire.

"I already heard about your contract. So, the accident has been staged, and Baenlin lies dead. Well done! You have more than earned your reward and bonus." His voice echoes slightly in the dark, coming from somewhere near his bed.

"Why is it dark in here?" I allow myself to step more into the room, careful not to trip on anything.

"I have a headache." His simply reply is short and we don't say anything for a while. Although I don't hear him get up, I suddenly feel a cold hand grip mine, turn it over, and a coin purse is pressed into my hand.

"Your reward," says a whisper from the dark, right in front of my face. I jerk hard and my heart, not expecting him to be there. Vicente holds me in place, his hands surprisingly gentle.

"Careful, I did not mean to frighten you." His hand travels over my hair, running my braid through his hand. Two hands lightly tug my shoulders and I'm being pulled into him, my face resting against his chest.

It takes me half a second before I realize he has no shirt on, the skin underneath cooling my flushed cheeks, which burn with heat and slight embarrassment.

A part of me wants to pull away. It tells me that this, this _closeness_ , is too much. It wants me to push the vampire away and shout at him for violating my space by holding me, especially by being shirtless. It's too much; I'm not supposed to be touched by men.

Then there's this other part that _craves_ it. It makes me want to run my hands over his bare chest, across his back, through his hair. It tells me that this is right and that _what if_ he had no clothes on – would he be attractive? It wants the lights on so I can admire his pallid bust.

Although I certainly don't intend to, I find my hand pressing itself to his chest and he holds me close. My thumb traces over a light shadow of hair, and I unconsciously wrap an arm around his back. Although I cannot see, my mind paints a picture in my head. He's very thin, but muscular, and there's a very slight amount of hair on his chest. I want to know how far that extends down, but I'm afraid to drag my hand down his stomach...to gods know where. I'm not ready for that.

His hand casually rubs my back softly. Lucien is wrong; this is a very caring action. If Vicente _didn't_ care for me, he wouldn't be holding me like this. Just because he's an assassin and a vampire doesn't mean he's heartless.

At last, Vicente's hands finally push me away, and my arms unwrap from his torso. His voice is just a whisper when he addresses me. "And now for your bonus. Her name is Sufferthorn."

Something cold is pushed into my hands, and a little inspection by feeling reveals to me that I'm holding a sheathed dagger, the blade wrapped in heavy leather. I can feel Sufferthorn's magic pulsing through my hands in a pleasant way. This blade _wants_ to kill.

"Also, something else. You have been promoted to Slayer. Congratulations."

I'm quiet for a moment. Vicente had told me about the different ranks when I was newer to the Brotherhood.

"Thank you," I whisper back. The words hardly leave my lips before I'm shoved backwards, my back pressing against stone. Cold lips ram into mine and Vicente's hands tear my hair from its braid.

His lips press mine open and I gasp quietly, tangling my palms into his hair. His teeth are sharp against my tongue as he kisses me passionately, though he not once bites down. I can feel his entire body pressed to mine, his leg touching the stone wall where mine are separated.

Warmth surges through my body, heating places I didn't know could feel that way. It takes me a second between grappling with him to realize how much I _love_ being shoved up roughly against a wall.

"Vicente," I mummer quietly. I don't want to feel this way…not yet. The images of being bitten and undressed by him are too unwelcome still. They scare me – this _feeling_ scares me.

He slowly stops and freezes for a second before his body withdraws from mine. "I apologize. I do not know what came over me." He lifts my hand and kisses it gently, his lips still moist from our encounter.

"It's okay...do you have another contract?" I hope to change the subject, take away the slight awkwardness of our situation. I still burn in foreign areas and I hope to Dibella that Vicente doesn't know.

He chuckles softly, though I do not know if it is in response to my question or my unspoken fear. "As always, you fail to disappoint me. Your target is a Dark Elf named Valen Dreth. He thinks he's safe in prison. He is tragically mistaken. A prisoner recently escaped from the prison, using a set of secret tunnels connecting to the Imperial City's sewer system. It's a perfect way inside." He's quiet for a moment, then regains his composure. "Just outside of the Imperial Prison is a grating that leads to the sewers. It has recently been tightly locked, but I will provide a key. It should be easy enough to locate Dreth in his small cell. Valen Dreth has been imprisoned for many years. His tongue is sharp, but his body is limp and frail. He will prove an easy, pleasurable kill. You will receive a bonus if you fulfill the contract without killing any of the prison guards."

"I can do that." My response is raspy and it takes me a minute to realize I'm still trying to catch my breath from our run in. My face burns and I thank the gods for the dark.

Vicente purrs. "Good, now go, and may the Night Mother go with you."

I pause for a moment before nodding and backing up to what I think is the door. That must be my exit cue. It takes me a minute to find the door handle, but right as I'm about to open it, Vicente's voice murmurs from behind me.

"Please _do_ be careful, Zaris."

I grin from the dark at his concern, and exit the dark chambers into the dim hallway, slightly lit from the lights in the halls where the Family is beginning to wake up.

* * *

**Agh! I apologize that this chapter took so long. I had writer's block, and now I'm working towards the chapter I've envisioned for a long time. Only two more contracts…**


	8. To Be A Coward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris finishes her third contract, has a celebration, learns about the traitor on the loose, and manages not to kill a coward.

I pull my arm back, the arrow lining up against the bow neatly. Valen Dreth spits at a guard and shouts something obscene, but the guard ignores him and walks down the hall, continuing his duty.

Sneaking in hadn't been easy. I spent a lot of time darting between columns and avoiding the flickering glow of torches as guards walked up and down the hallways. I haven't been seen yet.

Valen is ignorant of my presence in the cell across from him, or that my arrow is pointed at his head. I inhale deeply, line it up with his heart, and release.

The arrow speeds through the bars and buries itself neatly into his grey flesh, piercing his heart and ending his life. I say a prayer to the Night Mother as his soul is sent to the Void and the blood stills in his veins.

 _Thank you, Night Mother, for the opportunity to serve you,_ I think to myself. I'll need my Lady's favor to get out of this place. The small cells and patrolling guards are already making the hair stick up on the back of my neck.

 _Sithis guide me_.

* * *

 

"To Zaris, for her third contract!" Tel raises a glass filled with mead to me. Antoinetta and Gogron lift their glasses too and take big drinks from them.

We sit in the kitchen, candles around us dimly lighting the room. Everyone had already heard about my contract, but when I tried to tell Vicente it was completed, I discovered he was not to be disturbed. Apparently the Speaker had important news for him.

Ocheeva and Teinaava were also out on contracts, so that left just us and M'raaj Dar. The Khajiit has already threatened me several times, so I just try my best to stay away from him before I do something rash like cut his whiskers off while he sleeps. That would do nothing but cause drama.

I grin and raise my glass, the bitter-sweet liquid flowing down my throat as I drink from it. It warms my cheeks and makes me feel giddy.

Antoinetta begins telling a joke about one of her recent kills, and we all laugh together.

She grins at me and takes a long drink of mead before speaking. "Hey Zaris, did you know we're going to have a dance here for New Years?" Her cheeks are flushed red and a wicked smile passes over her face.

"A dance?" I frown. "I don't know how to dance."

Gogron and Tel chuckle to themselves and give each other a sly smile. Suddenly I feel like I've been the subject of much gossip recently.

"How about you ask _Vicente_ to teach you?" The elf nudges me in the ribs and I sigh.

"Or better yet," Gogron pipes in, his rough voice deeper than usual, "Why don't ask him to take you?"

I shake my hands up in front of my face. "Wait, wait. Please explain to me _why_ the Dark Brotherhood is holding a dance? We're assassins."

The orc snorts. "Not the Dark Brotherhood, just us. It's our own celebration."

I can't believe this. A dance? Really? And they expect me to go with Vicente…

"I don't have a dress." I could always wear my white and green one…but it is for a little kid. I want a real woman's dress. My cheeks burn, and I can't believe I'm really going to go with this. I wonder what other obscene things they say about us?

There's a moment of silence before some slight snickering occurs. Antoinetta's face turns tomato red as her laughter increases until she's fallen over backwards on the floor. Gogron covers his face with his hand as his breath huffs out. Tel appears to be holding it together, but a rather large smirk is plastered across her face.

"What?" I don't know what to feel right now. What is so funny?

Antoinetta finally picks herself up, her movements slow from the alcohol. "Well, you see…there was this yellow dress left on your bed this morning…and a note…signed with a V." Her mischievous eyes glimmer and I feel my stomach sink.

"No," I shake my head disbelievingly. "He did _not_ buy me a dress."

Tel giggles. "Oh Sister, _yes_ he did."

I'm paralyzed from embarrassment as I stare at them openmouthed. Why would he do that? Now, if my affection for him wasn't already known, the others have real actual proof to gossip about us. I recover after several minutes of continuous laughter in my direction.

My finger swirls in circles around the rim of my nearly untouched mead. Alcohol really isn't my thing. In an attempt to change the subject and get their mind off of my relationship, I bring up something that has been bothering me.

"What is Lucien talking about to Vicente that is so important?"

The laughter almost immediately stops – definitely a bad sign. The smiles fade and Antoinetta and Tel exchange glances. Tel goes to open her mouth, but Gogron fills in, blurting out the information.

"There are rumors of a traitor in the Brotherhood."

My blood runs cold and I set my glass down on the stone floor. "What?"

Tel glares sharply at Gogron before turning to me. "Honestly, I didn't want to tell you since this is supposed to be a celebration for you, but it's true. There is a traitor within the Dark Brotherhood."

"What does that mean for us?"

Tel shakes her head. "The killings began before you came. We have orders not to talk about it, especially around you. I don't think Vicente wants to scare you."

I feel anger boil up inside me. _He_ prevented anyone from telling me this? This is my family! I should have known sooner.

"I'm going to go talk to him." I push my glass away from me on the stone floor and stand up. Antoinetta grasps the fabric of the leg on my armor, pulling me back.

"No, Zaris! That isn't a good idea!" Her blue eyes and frantic and Gogron and Tel look kind of shocked.

"Zaris," Tel warns me, "Don't do this. It will only cause trouble."

I look between the two of them, contemplating their warnings. They have a point.

"Fine," I relent at last. "But I do need to use the bathroom, now that I'm standing."

Antoinetta is still for a second before releasing me. She doesn't look as concerned, but there's still doubt in her eyes, and rightfully so.

As soon as I've made it to the main hall, I dart down the hall to Vicente's chambers. I creep up quietly to his closed door, listening intently.

"Three deaths in the past week! _Three!_ This," Lucien's voice pauses, and he says the next word with complete disgust, " _Traitor,_ isn't just a normal assassin. They know too much. They've truly mastered disguising themselves within the Dark Brotherhood. When I get my hands on that bastard – " Lucien's voice falls flat before he continues with as much fiery rage as before. I can hear him stomping around as he paces.

"I have faith that it isn't you, Vicente. Now I have to ask, do you have _any_ idea who could be behind this?"

The vampire's accented voice drifts to me from behind the door. "No, nor do I think it is anyone from this Sanctuary. They would all serve Sithis and the Night Mother with their dying breath."

"The deaths keep occurring closer and closer to Cheydinhal. Somebody is trying to frame one of us." Lucien growls in a way that I can only describe as pure frustration. It is the sound a cat inside a home would make when it sees a bird, but is unable to reach it because of a glass barrier. "If I only knew who it was, I would string the bastard up by his –"

"Careful, Brother. We are not alone." Vicente's voice interrupts him and my blood runs cold. _Shit_ , I forgot. He can hear my heartbeat.

Lucien throws open the door, showering me in light. His brown eyes blaze and he seizes me by the braid, pulling me into the room.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice has a dangerous edge to it as he growls in my ear. "Has anyone ever told you it is rude to eavesdrop on your superiors?"

All I manage is a gasp before I'm released and pushed forward. Vicente leans with his arms on a chair, watching us closely.

"You arrived here after the killings began, which makes you safe. I suppose you've already heard everything you needed to hear to understand our situation." Lucien rubs the bridge of his nose, and for the first time I really catch a glimpse of his hands without gloves.

They are tanned, like his skin, but delicate and graceful, like the hands you'd see on a musician. They are hands that kill cleanly and beautifully. I wish I could see them in action, blood-splattered in the name of the Night Mother.

When I realize I'm actually checking out the Speaker, I nearly gag in disgust.

In the seconds that I'm distracted, I hardly notice Vicente cross the room to me until his hand is on my throat, red eyes in my face. His mouth is open in a snarl, fangs at the ready, and I feel fear run through my blood. I've never seen anything like this…

" _You will not repeat a thing you have heard, nor will you reveal anything you may have heard._ Understand?"

I hardly can choke out the words. "Yes."

"Good." The vampire releases me, and he's back to the kind-faced man I knew before. He rubs my back gently and I understand that he may have scared me, but he means well. The Dark Brotherhood's secrets must remain that way.

Lucien rubs his face with both hands, and it's then that I notice how tired he looks. Deep bags hang under his eyes and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. A certain haunted look stays in his eyes, and when he looks at me, I realize perhaps I've underestimated him. He isn't just Lucien Lachance the Speaker; he's Lucien Lachance the Man. He has feelings, and this is his family. I am his family.

I deep profound respect begins growing within my chest. He's my _Brother_. And he's in pain.

"What are we going to do about this? Do we have no idea who the traitor is?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

Vicente sighs and shakes his head. "No, nothing."

"What can I do to help?" I may not be able to do much, but I can help.

Lucien steps towards me and puts his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes. "Just continue your contracts, and for Sithis's sake, be safe. Don't do anything stupid and don't give the traitor a reason to come after you." He pauses for a minute and looks over my shoulder at Vicente before returning his gaze to mine. "We care about you."

I nod my head. He may have threatened me, told me assassins didn't love, but he lied, and he knows he lied. I see the affection written out on his face as plain as easily as Vicente can read my heartbeat. Whatever attraction, or jealously, he feels towards me, is buried deep within. He is the Speaker, and he will protect his family. I admire that.

Lucien Lachance releases me, and I turn to Vicente. "Do you have a contract for me?"

The vampire nods. "I have a special contract that needs fulfillment. In truth, I don't wish to offer it to any other family member. I've come to rely on your abilities. We're usually called upon to take a life, but not this time. This contract requires us to stage the assassination of a marked man." He does not look happy about this contract, and I wonder why.

"I'll do it." Somewhere out of the corner of my eye I see Lucien give a half smile.

"You must go to the city of Chorrol and break into the house of Francois Motierre. Inside you will find Motierre waiting for you. Do not kill him! You see, Francois Motierre is a marked man. He owes a considerable sum to the wrong kind of people. So, they have sent an enforcer to kill him. This is an unusual contract, Motierre had to make a special arrangement with us before it was approved. I trust in your professionalism." Vicente folds his hands behind his back, still looking displeased, and I realize the depth of this situation.

I raise an eyebrow. "I take it you do not approve of the way he's using the Family's skills?"

I'm almost astounded by the disgusted face the vampire makes. "The Dark Brotherhood is not in the business of staging deaths, no matter how much gold is offered. Sithis demands blood, and blood must be paid. In order to accept the contract, we demanded a life. Motierre offered his mother, and we accepted. Lucien has already taken care of that... detail."

"What kind of sick freak would offer his mother?" I choke out, and behind me Lucien snickers. Apparently this contract has not been in the highest priority of my family members. Vicente rolls his eyes, an almost humorous expression. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I almost giggle at the three of us. Myself and my almost-boyfriend vampire, and Lucien, who I have a feeling is like an over-protective brother.

Somehow Vicente guesses my thoughts, and a very light smirk passes over his thin lips.

The vampire addresses me again. "To fulfill this contract, I'm giving you a special blade dipped in a very rare poison. The Languorwine Blade will make a person appear to be dead, but a drop of this antidote will bring them back. Even the slightest cut will activate the poison; however, if the antidote is not used, Motierre will die." Vicente hands me both items and I tuck the blade and it's sheath onto my belt, slipping the vial of antidote into my pocket.

"I'll get it done." I turn to Lucien. "Do you mind giving Vicente and I a moment?"

He gives me a quick nod and exits the chamber. I turn to the vampire.

"Why did you buy me a dress?" My hands find their way to my hips and rest there. He looks extremely amused.

"I've lived for over three hundred years. Perhaps I wanted to get something special for you?" He reaches a hand up and tucks a strand of red hair behind my ear.

I sigh. "I haven't even seen it yet. Antoinetta told me."

Vicente rolls his eyes. "Of course she did." He leans in close to my ear, placing a hand on my lower back. My heart speeds up, and I know he can hear it.

"And I can't wait to see you in it in a week." His breath is soft as it waves against my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

Heat burns in my stomach, travelling downwards. Vicente pulls back to smile at me, but as soon as his eyes meet mine, his expression changes into a fierce, passionate gaze.

Lucien beats on the door outside. "Are you guys done yet? Please don't tell me you're about to start kissing. I don't want to see that." His whine pulls my vampire's eyes to the door and a small smile forms on his lips.

I inhale deeply, trying to push away the new feelings, not entirely unwelcome anymore. The heat lingers, making me want to touch him and pull away the pieces of confining clothing that cover his thin body.

"Well, I suppose I'll head out to do that contract." I smile at Vicente, who runs a thumb down my chin affectionately. I give him a quick kiss on the lips and open the chamber door, a now-rather grumpy looking Lucien waiting.

He grunts at me and I walk past him, grinning to myself.

* * *

 

The clean streets of Chorrol were bustling with people laughing and talking as they work. The big tree in the center of town rings with chirping from the birds nestling in its branches. It has been a while since I felt the warmth of the sun on my face, the light giving everything a bright glow. Although I wear my Dark Brotherhood, I have a dark green cloak clasped in front, hiding it from view. I found several of varying colors in Cheydinhal before I left and felt they would be good disguises.

Now, to find the man. This is a big city, perhaps I should just ask someone.

A woman in a purple dress carrying a basket of flowers nears me, and as she passes me I gently tap her on the shoulder. When she turns around, she greets me with a kind smile.

"Can I help you?"

I give her my sweetest look. "Do you know where I might find Francois Motierre's home? He's my cousin, you see, and I'm in town to visit him, only I'm kind of lost."

The woman brights right up, her brown eyes gleaming. "Of course! He lives right over there, across from the Great Oak."

"Oh thank you!" I clasp my hands together and she nods again before walking away. I head towards Motierre's house. It's all too bad I can't kill him; the bastard allowed his own mother to die because he was too afraid of being killed. Coward.

I knock on the door, trying to keep up appearances. When no one answers, I give a quick glance around the town square. Everyone, including the guards, are too busy watching other people and talking to notice as I slip a lockpick into the door and open it.

When I enter, a man stands off to the side, looking afraid.

"I thought you were Hides-His-Heart," the coward mutters to me, his brown eyes wide.

"Lucien Lachance has sent me." My voice is cold. I unclasp the cloak and his eyes widen as he sees my armor, the Black Hand insignia inked on the side. I push the cloak into a thin black bag and attach it to my back. Luckily it is light enough to not weigh very much.

Motierre rings his hands together. "Oh! Well… um, hello. I was expecting you. We haven't got much time, I'm afraid."

Sithis, this guy is a moron.

He continues. "I borrowed quite a bit of gold from some underworld types… I'm sure you know what they are like." Suddenly his eyes grow bigger than they were. "Not to say you are like that! I mean, you're quite nice, coming here to – "

"Oh for fuck's sake, get it over with. I'm not here to small talk with you. I'm getting paid to do the job, and that's what I want to do." I take a few steps, closing the space between us, and wrap my hand around his neck.

After a few seconds of stunned silence from Motierre, I release his neck. He stutters for a minute between continuing.

"The enforcer Hides-His-Heart is on his way right now to kill me. When he gets here, I'll put on a little act, you'll cut me with your poison knife, and he will think I am dead! You must then flee from Chorrol and Hides-His-Heart must not be killed! That way he can tell his employers that I am dead. If you wait a day my 'body' will be put on display in the Chorrol Chapel Undercroft. You find me and then administer the antidote." He looks at me expectantly. I nod.

"And he'll be here any minute. Get ready, and don't screw this up." I growl at him, playing bad-assassin, and he gulps.

I reach to my side and pull the Languorwine Blade from my belt just as a knock sounds at the door.

"Motierre, I know you're in there!" The voice is raspy and sharp despite the muffle from the door – definitely an Argonian. "My employers are most displeased. I'm coming in and you can beg for your life, though it won't do any good!" He cackles, and I smirk to myself. It's all too bad I can't see the frustrating man ripped to shreds…but I am getting paid.

The Argonian tosses open the door, grinning. I take my chance, ignoring whatever plan Motierre had. I seize the short man by the hair, holding him against my chest, his neck stretched, vulnerable to my blade.

"Awww, did you want this?" I give Hides-His-Heart my cutest pout. "As it turns out, he owes me some money too. If only you'd been quicker." Motierre quivers under my grasp, although I cannot tell if it is because he truly fears for my life or if he is acting.

"Stand aside, assassin! Motierre is mine! My employers demand it." Hides-His-Heart bears sharp teeth at me, his gaze deadly.

"How about…no?" With that last word, I bury the Languorwine Blade into Motierre's side, between his ribs – close enough to look real without doing any actual damage. He cries out and goes limp, the poison bursting through his veins. I push him to the side.

Hides-His-Heart screeches in fury and charges me. I dodge to the side and kick open Motierre's door, dashing outside. I duck into an alley moments before I hear the Argonian race out of the home. I pull my green cape out of the black bag and swing it on as I dart behind houses. I pull the hood over my head and clasp it closed in the front. This should buy me some time.

I re-emerge and lose myself in the crowd of people, just another citizen. I watch from under the hood of my cloak as Hides-His-Heart paces, looking for me intently. I appear look at different wares some merchants are selling in baskets, although I keep my eye on the Argonian. After a while, he shakes his head, spits, and stomps off.

I grin to myself. Success.

* * *

 

As directed, I wait a day until journeying to the Chorrol Chapel Undercroft, my green cloak replaced with a purple one.

It takes a while to find his body. Motierre lays on a slab of stone, hands folded neatly over his stomach. His skin is ghostly pale, even more so than Vicente's when he hasn't eaten in a while. I rip open his shirt to look at the wound. It's been cleaned where I stabbed him, though it doesn't look like it did any long-term damage. I pull both the antidote and a strong healing potion out of my bag. He'll need both.

I pry open his mouth and open the vial, dripping a few drops onto his tongue. Almost immediately color begins rushing back into his skin, and his eyes slowly open.

I open the healing potion and lift his head, dunking the whole thing into his mouth. He chokes for a second, but I can see the skin mending itself together on this side.

After several minutes, he sits up, clearly feeling better. "Oooh…I'm stiff, but doing fine."

I'm just glad he isn't dead. "That's nice to know. Now for my payment."

Motierre looks afraid for a second. "Yes, well, about that. My family members are buried here in the Undercroft…and I may have failed to mention that they will see my 'revival' as a desecration of their tomb. This Undecroft is… well… quite cursed." He pauses for a moment and closes his eyes, sensing my fury that's about to rage. "Any desecration will cause my ancestors to rise from the grave and defend their resting place."

I seize him by the collar, shoving him against a pillar. "You _forgot?_ You are so lucky right now I can't kill you, or I'd tear your heart out. The last thing I want to do is deal with _zombies._ "

"I can hear them coming!" The man shouts, despite my threat. I want to slap him with the noise he is making. "You must protect me! Escort me to the Gray Mare where I can buy passage out of Chorrol!"

I clench my fist and pummel it into the stone next to his head. He flinches and his eyes grow wide. The impact hurts my hand, sharp twinges of pain surging through my fingers.

His eyes widen. "Here they come! Behind you!"

I flip around and draw my blade as a rotting zombie stumbles out into the light from the torches. I almost puke when I see it, the disgusting groans filling the cavern. Fucking _fuck._

I screech and fly towards it, determined to get my anger at Motierre out in some way. The Blade of Woe slices through the rotting flesh over and over until it finally stops moving.

"Follow me…and be fast, you useless bag of shit!" I dart away from the discolored, smelly mound on the floor and rush down a hall. Another zombie greets me. Motierre helps me slash it until it too falls on the ground.

The zombies groan and emerge out of a hallway just as a stairwell comes into sight. "Don't stop!" I call to him, his footsteps right behind mine.

We rush out into the chapel above. Priests wander around, and I lead Motierre to the back door.

"Put on this cloak," I hand it to him, black as the Void in color. "You're supposed to be dead. Can't have people seeing you."

He nods and slips it over, clasping it closed. He lifts the hood and we exit into the bright streets of Chorrol.

We walk in silence to the Gray Mare, just a black and purple cloak together in the afternoon sun. The Gray Mare is a beaten up-looking wooden building. I pull open the door and push my hand onto Motierre's back, shoving the coward inside.

"Ah," he says when we're inside. "From here I will be able to arrange for transportation out of Cyrodiil. You have served me well, assassin." He puffs out his chest, attempting to look masculine. I nearly wrinkle my nose at him.

"I am forever in your debt! Farewell!" He nods to me and unclasps my cloak, handing it to me. I don't smile at him.

Good riddance.

**Okay...I lied! Next chapter is the fun chapter! And possibly the chapter after that. We have some fun things going to happen! Weee! Sorry this chapter took a while, I was not looking forward to writing Motierre's contract, but it was actually kind of fun. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Love and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris is offered the Dark Gift and attends the dance...with some unexpected results.

**This is a special chapter, and therefore is rather long!**

Almost a full week has gone by the time I finally arrive back at Cheydinhal. The Sanctuary is dark, and I can hear loud snoring coming from the bed chambers.

My night vision seems to have gotten better, as I can make out the shadows well enough now to walk on my own down the hall to Vicente's chamber.

I give a quick polite tap to the door, just loud enough for the vampire's hearing to pick up before opening the door.

Vicente raises his read eyes from a book when I enter. He's sitting in his normal attire at his table, great sword strapped to his back, a large volume spread out before him.

His eyes glimmer, and I realize he actually is rather happy to see me. "Ah, so Motierre has escaped? Well done!"

I, on the other hand, am not quite as happy. "I wish I could have fucking killed that bastard. He made me kill zombies. I _hate_ zombies!" I clench my fists together. Vicente chuckles before getting up, leaving the book open.

He leans against the table, now facing me. "I suppose you'd like your reward. Here." He holds out his hand and I extend mine. He flips it over and spreads open my palm, dropping a small key into it.

"What is this for?" I say, wrinkling my brow.

He smiles. "That's the key to the well, the one frequented often by Lucien. It means you got a promotion. You are now an Eliminator."

I stare at the key in awe. That means I'm a higher rank than Vicente… I jump forward and wrap my arms around his neck. He hugs me back, somewhat more gently.

I rub my nose into the crook of his neck, the cold skin pressed to mine. He smells good, and I want – no, need – to remember the scent forever. I run my hands over his neck underneath his hair.

"Zaris," he breathes out, and I pull away to look at him. There's an unreadable expression in his eyes. He reaches a hand up to my face.

"You also get something else for the bonus." He smirks at last, but whatever expression is in his eyes stays. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a brass necklace that emanates the buzz of an enchantment.

"Cruelty's Heart. It has a strength enchantment. May I?" He unclips the clasp and holds it out. I nod and turn around, my back to him. He pushes my hair out of the way, which isn't braided at the moment. The necklace is pulled over me to rest on my chest, and a second later he has clasped it together. I can feel the enchantment surge into me, rushing through my bones. I exhale deeply.

Vicente, with gentle hands, gathers my hair into his hands and runs his fingers through it, letting it cascade back down, the messy waves reaching the center of my back.

I turn back around to see Vicente staring at me, his gaze intense.

"The dance is tomorrow." He slowly brushes a cold finger across my lips.

"I – " My breath gets caught in my throat and my eyes are glued to his face. My heart skips a beat in my chest. "Do you have any more contracts for me?" I finally manage to get the words out, despite the distraction the vampire is causing by touching me.

"Well now, you are an ambitious one, aren't you?" His chuckle is deep and he catches a wild strand of orange between his fingers, focusing on it as he speaks. "I'm afraid I have no more contracts for you. Our time working together has come to an end. Instead, you must report to Ocheeva, here in the Sanctuary. She will be providing all your contracts."

I watch the intense desire fade from his eyes to be replaced by a guarded look, his gaze locking on mine. "Before you go, however, I intend to make good on an offer I made some time ago. As a vampire, I may pass my gift on to others as I see fit. You have served me well, and I choose now to extend that gift to you."

A level of shock surges through my body. It takes a minute for me to recompose myself. Vicente is patient, silently watching me, most likely gauging my reactions.

"Okay," I whisper. He is silent for another moment before speaking.

"Go to sleep in a bed here in the Sanctuary. I will come to you at night during your sleep. Three days must pass, and then you will walk an eternity of the night." The expression on his face is very serious, but I can't help but sense he's slightly happy about it. How long has he wanted me to be like him?

"No," I reply simply, and he looks at me confused. Before he can open his mouth to question my response, I interject. "If you're going to turn me, you're going to do it right here and right _now_."

I can see the conflict cross Vicente's face. He's very still, not even saying a word, for a long time. I start to question if he's become a statue by the time he closes his eyes and sighs.

When he opens them again, I can see the resignation in his expression. "It will hurt."

"I can handle pain." My voice is firm, though I can feel my body almost quiver with the anxiety and anticipation of it.

I watch his guarded expression drop, his eyes now raw with pure desire, though whether the lust is for me or my flesh, I cannot tell. The gaze sets my skin on fire, warming the pits of my stomach.

Vicente reaches a cold hand up, stroking it down my cheek. My heart pounds in my chest as he lifts my chin up, exposing the pale flesh of my neck.

The vulnerability I feel is as strong as when I was violated before joining the Brotherhood…yet this time it is completely welcome. The _idea_ of Vicente's body pressed to mine, his mouth to my neck, sets me on fire with pure lust.

I look down, my chin still raised with my head and back pressed against the wall, to see Vicente giving me an intrigued look. I realize at that moment that he knows I _want_ this the way I _want_ him. He leans his head in, face pressed to my neck, inhaling deeply, tasting my scent on his tongue.

Then he begins kissing my neck and shoulders, the sensation making me moan involuntarily. Heat burns down past my stomach, and the tingle of nerves makes me gasp. The light scraping of his teeth against my sensitive flesh sends bumps across my skin, making me writhe under his grasp.

His mouth opens, teeth pressed against my neck, and then pain as they pierce my skin and sink in. I gasp, partly out of pain and partly out of surprise. Although I expected his bite, his loving kissing only aroused me, bringing new thoughts into my mind that I've never experienced before.

The pain dulls quickly, and his aggressive sucking makes me cold and warm at the same time, my desire for him only growing. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my conscious is trying to tell me how _wrong_ it is that I find this enjoyable, but I shove it away, lost in the pain and ecstasy.

My hands clutch Vicente's shoulders, nails digging into his back, as I gasp silently while he holds my head aggressively upwards, sucking my life force away.

His hand leaves my chin and wraps harshly around my waist, pulling me into him. One of my hands buries in his silky, brown hair while the other strokes down his neck, now almost warm as my blood flows through his body. Black spots appear before my eyes and my vision clouds from the lack of blood, making me light-headed.

I make a small groan as pain pierces back through my neck, the vampire pulling his fangs from my flesh. He kisses my neck gently before pulling his head back to look in my eyes.

Vicente's mouth is slightly red with my own blood, but his eyes burn strongly with desire, the red having changed to amber. I reach my hand down and begin undoing the ties on his tunic, desperate to touch the skin underneath.

He pulls my head back close to him, whispering gently in my ear. "If you start trying to undress me, I will fuck you senseless, and likely drink you dry. And we can't have that."

I dig my nails into his back, his words making my heart jump and warmth surge between my legs.

"Please," I whisper back, pressing my mouth against his neck and sucking the now-warm skin there. He breathes out deeply, pulling me against him involuntarily.

"Zaris, you are not in your right mind right now. I don't have full control right now. If we make love, I _will_ kill you. Even if you don't die, I could accidentally enthrall you to me permanently." He nudges me away from my careful love to his neck.

"You should go to sleep. You're very pale; I probably have already taken more than I really should have." His runs a hand down the back of my head affectionately.

I don't say anything, so Vicente dislodges my hands from his body, making sure I can stand up without falling over. He glances at my neck and pulls out a silky, white handkerchief, pressing it to the wound.

I give him a questioning glance, wondering why he wouldn't just drink any extra blood spilled. He seems to sense my thoughts, understanding the glance.

"If I tasted your blood again, I wouldn't stop. Please go to bed, Zarissis." He leans in and kisses my forehead, running his thumbs over my cheekbones.

I nod, realizing this probably isn't a battle I should fight. Vicente opens his chamber door, the hallway outside still dark.

I smile at him one last time before walking slowly out of the room, making sure I don't fall over. I use the hand not clutched to my neck to hold myself up on the wall. He watches me leave until I'm around the corner, then the light fades as he closes the door. After a few stumbles, I manage to make it back to the living quarters.

My bed is nicely made up, and hooked on a pole hanging at the foot is a large gown. Maybe it's just the loss of blood, but I swear in the candlelight that it glitters like gold. I walk into the wash room, close the door quietly so not to wake up the girls, and go through the long process of taking off my armor. When it's fully removed, I fold it up neatly and walk back into the bedroom, sticking it under my bed. I climb under the covers and glance at the bloody handkerchief before folding it up and sticking it under my pillow, the dry sections folded over the bloodied one to keep the red from soaking into the bed.

As soon as I fully settle into the pillow, a heaviness grasps my vision and I allow it to take over, slipping under.

* * *

"Zaris, Zaris!" A high-pitched voice assaults my ears, pulling me from my sleep. I crack open an eyelid to see a perky blonde sitting on the edge of my bed, her messy hair sticking out in all directions.

"Guess what day it is? Guess!" She molests my ribs with her finger, insisting to poke me.

"Zaris gets to sleep in day?" I suggest, closing my eyes again.

She squeals. "No, of course not! Today is the dance! And you get to… Zaris, are those _bite marks_ on your neck?" She is quiet for a moment, and then her shrieking becomes unbearable, erasing any hope I had of going back to bed. "You let Vicente bite you? Are you going to become a vampire? Did you guys have sex?"

Her voice is so loud, I'm sure everybody heard.

"Antoinetta dear, I don't think she wants the entire Sanctuary knowing her business." I laugh into my pillow and open my eyes to see Ocheeva leaning against the wall, her teeth showing in a humored smile. I've become better at interpreting the Argonian equivalents of facial expressions.

"We need to start getting ready for the dance!" The blue-eyed assassin shakes me back and forth before tossing the covers back, my skin stranded to the cold air.

"Fuck, Antoinetta!" I swear, chills racking my frame. I'm only wear underwear and a bra band when I sleep.

She goes quiet for a moment. "You should wear clothes when you go to bed." Her eyes dance with an oncoming mischievous comment. "Does Vicente know you sleep nearly-naked?" She giggles.

"Tel, help me," I cry out to the wood elf, hoping she'll come and save me. Sure enough, Tel quickly ducks into the room. She doesn't say anything, just chuckles.

"Look at her neck!" Antoinetta bursts out, pointing to me. "She let Vicente bite her!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," I say, covering my face with my hands.

The normal daytime inhabitants are out and about when I finally get up and dressed before heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

Antoinetta is currently pouting; none of the ladies of the Sanctuary seemed really interested that I had let Vicente near my neck. They mostly just shrugged and told Antoinetta that I could do whatever I want. It disappointed her greatly that nobody wanted to gossip with her about me.

I begin pulling out some bread, cheese and fruit when M'raaj Dar enters the kitchen, purring loudly.

"Ah, there you are!" His eyes dance, and fur flies off of him, the hairs drifting around. I move my food away, out of range. He ignores this action, instead rushing up to me. "Look... I've been thinking, and... Well... I guess I just want to say I'm sorry for the way I've treated you in the past. I mean, look at you! The things you've accomplished! You've obviously proven yourself a valuable member of this Sanctuary. So let's start over, shall we? I know from now on, you and I are going to be great friends!"

M'raaj Dar rubs his head against my shoulder, covering my shirt with grey chunks of fur. I hesitate for a minute before petting him on the head, the fur silky under my touch. He purrs louder.

Suddenly, his body freezes, and he moves his head back, sniffing my face and neck. "You smell like Vicente, and blood."

My cheeks burn red. "Yeah, sorry about that…we can still be friends, right?" I smile at him.

The Khajiit begins purring after a minute. "Yes, Zaris." He pauses. "Zaris, such a _pretty_ name…"

I grab my food and exit the kitchen, afraid he might start hitting on me. I can handle vampires…I don't know how I'd like cats.

The dining table is filled with talking family members when I get back. Luckily, I used some water and makeup, with the help of Ocheeva – out of the prying eyes and ears of Antoinetta – to cover up Vicente's bite marks.

Lucien sits in black pajamas, looking _very_ tired. His black hair is mussed up every which way, out of its usual ponytail.

I set my collection of bread, cheese and fruit down on the table and plop next to him. I pull off a chunk of bread and hand it to the Imperial, who glances at it, gives me a look, and grunts before taking it. I suppose that was the best thank you he could muster.

We eat in silence while Gogron and Teinaava discuss their latest kills down the table towards the door. After a while, M'raaj Dar leaves the kitchen, a raw fish from our magic-enchanted icebox in his hand. He quickly ducks out of the room.

Ocheeva and Tel eat together, occasionally discussing types of magic and their uses. Antoinetta soon hops in and slides into a seat, chirping loudly as she joins their conversation.

I peel orange, occasionally offering slices to the Speaker. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the way his fingers hold each piece of fruit, their graceful movement somewhat mesmerizing.

When I finish sharing the cheese with him, I stand up from the table and pat him on the head. He jerks his head and gives me a dirty look as I leave.

* * *

That evening is hectic. Antoinetta rushes around, squealing with delight as each of the women gets dressed and puts on makeup while doing hair in the same room.

As it turns out, the dress Vicente got me wasn't exactly yellow – my eyes didn't deceive me last night. It is a lovely deep gold, the silk containing threads that glitter in the light. Even the corset matches, the boning covered with expensive fabric. I don't know where he would have gotten this, or how much it would have cost; the dress looks like it is made out of gold.

Bundles of fabric are bunched up throughout the skirt of the dress, creating graceful ruffles. He even bought matching shoes in a shiny deep gold to match the dress, the heel classy and simple.

"We need to do your hair," Antoinetta says, pulling at my red locks as I stare at my vampire's gift.

She manages to pull me away, and while Ocheeva is busy brushing and twisting the hair I washed this morning into a new style, Tel dabs light amounts of makeup to my face. I hadn't let Antoinetta do it – nothing is in moderation for her.

When they finally release me, I look into the mirror to see an entirely new person looking back.

My hair cascades down in ringlets and curls, thanks to a magically-heated metal rod Ocheeva used. Two top parts near my forehead have been braided and tied together at the back of my head, and several strands of curls fall in front of my ears.

Light brown coloring has been dabbed in moderate amounts to my eyelids, and brown eyeliner has been applied in a thin line on the top. Somehow, they even managed to find makeup to make my eyelashes long and dark, standing out more clearly than my fair orange ones.

This is a look that I'm certain will have Vicente falling at my feet. I grin.

"Thank you!" I hug each of them and help them get ready.

Somewhere in the main hall, a slow score of jazz begins playing. Somehow, someone managed to teach the Dark Guardians how to play the piano, violin and base. It makes me laugh when I think about it. Lucien spelled a woman into coming to sing for us with her sultry voice.

The heels Vicente bought me take a moment to adjust to, but I don't find them too hard to walk in. When I finally enter the main hall after managing to put on my dress, I notice that there are candles casting a very dim light throughout the room, helping add to the romantic atmosphere.

I see Gogron and Tel first. She holds a glass of champagne, looking positively elegant in a draping dark red gown. Gogron whispers in her eats and she giggles, holding onto his arm. After a second of smiling at him, she leans in and gives him a big kiss.

When I near them, both turn to say hello.

"Oh Zaris! You look beautiful!" Tel squeals rushing forward to hug me.

"So are you," I kiss her on the cheek and wink at Gogron, whose deep laugh fills the hall over top of the music.

The next group I see is Teinaava and M'raaj Dar. They both turn and smile, looking me up and down.

Teinaava grins at me. "Save me a dance, beautiful Sister."

I blush furiously. The amount of attention everyone is giving me is somewhat daunting. M'raaj Dar purrs at me, and I nod to him before quickly walking away, still slightly disturbed by his sudden interest in me.

Standing off to the side is Lucien, Vicente and Antoinetta. When the blonde sees me, she squeals loudly, making the Speaker and the vampire turn towards me.

Lucien's mouth falls open just a bit for a second, just to be replaced by a possessive look, one a hunter might give the prey he is chasing. I ignore him and turn to Vicente.

The vampire's eyes hold an affection like I've never seen in their depths, a smile stretched across his face.

"You look lovely." He picks up my hand and kisses it. I bite my lip.

Vicente's gaze burns into mine and I shyly glance back at him, remembering the intimate moment we shared yesterday. "May I have this dance?"

I nod, and he quickly sweeps me away from the others and into a dim patch of light, the music softly playing, drowning out the voices of our family. His hand rests on my hip, the other holding my hand close to his chest. I rest my loose hand on his shoulder.

Vicente pulls me a little closer and we sway to the music. I rest my head against his chest, the cloth soft against my cheek. I feel him shift a little bit and put his chin against my head.

"Zaris," he breathes out, his voice rumbling from within his chest where my ear is pressed. "You are like a dark gift from the Night Mother herself."

Tucked under his chin, I blush furiously. I used to read books about romance and adventure but never thought I'd be living it. The contracts I fulfill for Sithis and the Night Mother through the slaughtering of innocent people makes my blood rush and my heart pound, a feeling of adrenaline and perhaps _excitement_ rushing through my veins. I could have never imagined killing before Tristeran; now I _long_ for it. Somehow, falling in love with a homicidal vampire seems like a good deal to me now.

"What are you thinking about?" Vicente murmurs against me, his fingers tightening against my waist before softening their grip.

I smile into the brown dress shirt he's wearing, the scent of his styrax soap somewhat intoxicating for me. "Death. Killing people. And you."

"What a wonderful combination." Vicente chuckles, the sound deep and resonating where my ear is pressed against him.

My neck tingles, and I realize that the entire Sanctuary is probably staring at us. If the music wasn't as loud, I imagine Antoinetta would be squealing and clapping her hands.

I pull away from the dull heat of the vampire, his body still pulsating with some of my blood. It warms my cheeks to think that a part of me belongs to him, even in a twisted sense.

Vicente's mouth twitches slightly into a smile and we dance, spinning slowly in circles to the music. My feet are clumsy and trip every now and then or even step on his feet, but he remains graceful, guiding me to the beat of the music.

Around us, our Family dances also. Gogron spins and whips Tel around, not even matching the tempo of the song. I'm surprised she doesn't get whiplash, but the Bosmer just giggles and slaps his thick arms playfully.

M'raaj Dar holds Ocheeva's scaley hand, albeit purring. She doesn't seem to mind it too much, although they appear to be a very awkward pairing.

Teinaava's feet are more delicate and slide across the stone floor with ease as he rotates with Antoinetta, who has kicked off her shoes and stands on him, all of her weight resting on the balls of her feet. She looks happy, but every moment or so her glance drifts to the Speaker.

Lucien Lachance glowers at me in a corner, his gaze set deep into his face. My arms tingle and I feel ill, the disdain evident on his features.

I feel cool lips against my temple. "Don't worry about him. Don't even think about it."

The touch of Vicente's lips to my skin sets me on fire and I tighten my grip onto his shoulder. I glance back at him and a sly grin spreads across his thin features, giving me a glimpse of the dangerous personality I've only seen a couple times before.

"Two days, sweet Sister." His breath against my ear is sudden and surprisingly chill. There is a fondness in his eyes, a _desire_ for me. It's then that I realize he wants me to be like him. Vicente wants to share an eternity of night with me.

It feels as though a sudden wave fills my lungs, making it hard to breathe as I fight against it. My heart slams rapidly into my chest at the sudden realization, goose bumps spreading over my pale, freckled skin and under the golden dress.

I exhale the three syllables of his name, lost in the bass of the song but caught in the keen ears of the aged man. _"Vicente."_

I feel the air rush from my lungs again as he fixes his red-speckled amber eyes on me, desire and passion blistering into his face. The hand on my waist tightens almost unbearably and I'm certain he's close to spraining my hand. Fire alights through my body, surging between my legs and in my chest and face. At that moment, I know I _need_ to get out of the main hall or I'll end up tearing his clothes off right here.

Careful eyes dart around before he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me slightly off the ground, my gold dress dangling helplessly on the stone floor below. Vicente slips into the shadows completely undetected by the distracted and somewhat tipsy members of the Sanctuary despite holding me. He swings one arm under my legs and sweeps me up, my cheek pressed to the cooling skin of his arm.

I can't help but feel my heart flutter as I'm submerged into the darkness of the hall leading to his chambers, the temperature dropping a few degrees and chilling my bones.

I'm set on my feet, complete darkness surrounding me. The dim glow of the main hall isn't enough to light the tunnel. Hands push against me and my back collides with the wall.

Vicente's scent engulfs me as he slams his thin lips into mine, locking me against him, my tongue fighting for dominance against the sharp fangs and expert mouth of the vampire. His body presses entirely against me, one leg slipping between mine against the ruffles of the dress.

The passion of his hunger holds me in place, and I willingly give him the last bits of innocence, the final remembrance of my former life.

Vicente again lifts me off the ground and pulls me into the dark chamber, closing the door. I can feel him lower me onto his stone slab, the stiff cold rock setting my nerves alight, rubbing into my sensitive skin.

He lowers himself onto me and traces his lips down my neck, hovering slightly over his bite mark, now covered with makeup. His lips and fangs gently scrape the skin on my exposed shoulders, making me gasp involuntarily, lust blinding me and sending dark spots into my eyes despite the already present blackness.

Experienced hands lift me off the slab slightly, and it takes me a second to feel my corset loosening, the strings quickly pulled from underneath me. I let out a sigh of relief as extra air floods into my lungs and my breasts hang free again.

"I want to see you," I whisper into his ear as my hand snakes around his neck. He is still for a moment before a dim mage light drifts up in the corner, casting just enough glow to see the angles on Vicente's face and the brilliant colors within his eyes.

His hands glide over my shoulders and push down the ruffled loops hanging on my arms. The golden fabric slides over my chest before slipping over my breasts, completely exposed with no bra band and no corset holding them down.

He lifts me up by my hips, using one hand to shove it to the ground, pooling at the foot of his coffin. He runs a hand up my side, tingling the untouched skin there.

Vicente suddenly freezes on top of me and I close my eyes, holding back a sigh. His fingers lightly trace over the deliberate scars left on my ribs, an unpleasant reminder of my first kill.

My fingers drift to his shirt and I try to unbutton it, but my hands shake badly as adrenaline and shock courses through my body. The last time a man tried to touch me, he paid the price – yet here I am, offering myself on a stone coffin for my immortal lover.

He leans down, and I take the chance to pull the leather hair tie from his long locks, the thin, brown hair falling over his shoulders and pooling onto my stomach. Vicente's teeth graze the scars and I go to jump in shock, but a cold hand presses against my chest and holds me down.

The area tingles unbearably, coursing wave after wave of heat between my legs, now only covered by a thin section of my small clothes. I'm more than certain that Vicente can smell my arousal, but the thought only augments my carnal desire. I twist my hands into his hair, completely unaware as I gather it into my fist and pull tightly.

His head shoots up, eyes surging with want. As soon as I realize I yanked on his hair, he seizes both of my wrists, pinning them above my head. My heart jumps and I yelp when his teeth sink into my bottom lip. He pushes himself against me, my legs helplessly open and pushed on either side of his waist. He thrusts his hips against me, and through my small clothes and the fancy trousers, I can feel him hard against me. I moan loudly and he repeats the action, making me squeeze my eyes shut.

"Vicente," I moan helplessly against him, unable to move under his strong hold. "Please."

His hands loosen on my wrists and he sits up, pulling me with him. I watch his warm gaze as he guides my hands to the buttons on his shirt. In just a few minutes, I'm able to push the shirt down over his wrists, revealing his chest completely.

In the dim light I can tell he is in fact very pale, but strong muscles ripple over his arms and chest, which is sprinkled with hair, thickening as it trails down his abdomen. I trace the line with the back of my fingers before grasping the edge of his pants, unbuttoning it slowly.

The sound of cloth hitting the floor sounds as loud as both of our small clothes hit the ground. My back and head collide uncomfortably with the stone, but a dull feeling compared to his body pressed to mine.

"This will hurt." Vicente's words barely have a time to register in my head before he's hooked my legs over his hips and moves into me, tearing through the final remnant of my former life.

I cry out against his hand which rests against my mouth. My eyes prickle with tears as I fight the burning sensation between my legs. Vicente doesn't move, only holding me close against his chest, stroking my hair softly.

I exhale as the pain dims and the arousal returns. I tighten my muscles as my entire body craves for his movement.

His hands wrap under my shoulder and press me into his chest as he thrusts into me, desire spiking through my body while I cry out.

Passion enflames my body and I dig my nails into the muscles on his thin back while he hits the same sweet spot each time, making me quiver.

His hands lay me back against the stone but he never once breaks his pace, only moving into me with impetuous passion. He grips my shoulders and I barely have the time to comprehend what is happening before sharp pain seizes through my neck and I choke out a cry, my body shuddering from the hurt and the overwhelming pleasure.

I dig my nails even harder over his back as I scrabble to grasp on, his movements inside me and the dull sucking on my neck spiking black dots over my eyes.

The pleasure is overwhelming as each spike pushes me closer and closer to the inevitable release. Vicente breaks his pacing and drives into me erratically, his hand holding my neck in place while he latches on to my life force.

I hardly have time to contain the shout and shuddered moan that rips through my body, bursting between my legs as I cry Vicente's name, my fingers breaking skin and bloodying themselves in his back. Vicente's teeth sink deeper into my neck and I choke as I feel his body jerk before unexpected warmth fills me. Black dots overwhelm my vision and everything slows down, even the mage lights becoming dim. My eyes flutter closed until all I can hear is my breath within my lungs, raspy and irregular.

After a second I feel Vicente's warm hands against my cheeks, his voice saying something that I can't quite catch. My eyes slowly open and blurred vision surges before me, coloring the world in shadows yet again.

"Vicente?" I whisper, my voice raw and rough in my throat.

"I'm here." He kisses my forehead affectionately and I smile feebly, my body attempting to gain control of itself after being ravaged.

He lowers himself next to me, turned onto his side so we will both fit on the coffin. After a moment he gets up, and I hear him rummage in a cabinet. A soft cool blanket glides down on me as he slides back next to me, our bodies heating the cloth. Vicente pulls me close, my face against his chest. Although the stone slab is hard on my back, my eyes drift closed, unable to keep the heaviness away.

"Sleep well." His hand rubs against my hair until I'm pulled against the blackness and under, drifting into a deep and happy sleep.


	10. Contract, Vicente!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris must escape her undead lover to do a contract, socialize with an Altmer woman to kill her boyfriend, and learn a terrible secret.

The first thing I'm aware of as I wake up is the painfully hard surface of rock beneath my bare back and against my shoulder and ribs where I lie on my side. It takes me a minute to comprehend why my head isn't resting against the stone too until a cold hand strokes down my cheek and makes me gasp, inhaling an interesting smell that reminds me of old books and dusty libraries, laced with a faint scent of cinnamon and wood…

I smile and snuggle in closer to the vampire's side, my cheek resting against his shoulder which is somewhat heated from my own body mixed with the light warmth from my blood flowing through his veins.

I stiffly push myself onto my elbow and turn towards him. Although Vicente's eyes are closed, his hand rubs down my shoulder and the side of his thin mouth twitches with a smile.

I note somewhat appreciatively the fullness of his cheeks and the pale pink of his closed eyelids. Unlike normally, the dark circles that bag under his eyes are significantly lightened, making him look years younger than I've ever seen him. I feel almost as though I've gone back in time and now lie beside a fresh vampire, centuries knocked off of his endless age.

He opens his eyes and stares at me for a long time, his deep amber eyes boring into mine. Without their usual deep red color, he looks human, not nearly as menacing as I imagine he's capable of, despite the ripple of strong but concealed muscles hidden beneath his thin frame.

"Ready for breakfast?" I smile a little at him and twirl a strand of his thin, brown hair around one of my fingers.

He hums, amused. "I had breakfast already." With that, he scratches at the dried blood streaked over my chest from the marks on my neck.

I laugh. "Well, maybe when I get up, I'll go and see Ocheeva for a contract before breakfast." I kiss the vampire's nose playfully. He seizes me, pulling me on top of him, my loose red hair spilling over my back and onto his shoulders.

"Stay any longer, and I might just have a second breakfast." Vicente's lips pull back in a menacing smile, revealing white, sharp fangs. His eyes gaze at my neck with passion.

I start wiggling, attempting to pull away from his iron grasp. "Contract!" I squeal, jerking against him. He pulls me tighter and my cheeks flush from my straining.

" _Contract_ , Vicente!" My words scramble up between giggles as I push my hands against his face, twisting just out of grasp and falling off his coffin.

Wrapping the sheet around me, I shuffle towards the door just as strong hands grasp the sheet and pull me backwards into fangs that scrape invitingly over the flesh on my shoulder. I scramble for the door frame and grasp it as he pulls me backwards by the waist.

"CONTRACT!"

My fingers slip from the door frame and I collapse backwards, his fangs involuntarily sinking into my skin. Pleasure spikes through my body and he holds my neck up, sucking way. I allow myself to go limp, putting my life into his hands once again.

* * *

 

"Dusty!" I growl at the horse, pulling his reins. The ash-gray steed snorts and throws back his head, rearing up on his hind legs. I cling on desperately, trying not to fall off.

We've managed to get to the Imperial City before nightfall after having received the contract to kill Faelian from Ocheeva, except that Dusty refuses to lodge in the stables with the other mares.

"Please calm down!" I shout, just as the gray horse tosses me off his back. Luckily for me, I land in a hay stack while Dusty suddenly calms down and begins casually munching on grass as if nothing ever happened.

"Have it your way, you damned horse!" I shake my fist at him and trudge off towards the main gate, a dark green cloak wrapped around my armor, successfully hiding any distinguishing signs of my faction as well as concealing the Blade of Woe and Sufferthorn at my hip.

Traffic in the city begins to slowly trickle off into homes and behind locked doors by the time I arrive in the Talos Plaza District, a light drizzle of rain falling from the darkened sky onto any available surface. I won't be able to continue any more tonight outside unless I want to catch a cold. Tucking my cloak around me, I dart into the nearest inn, an expensive-looking building named the Tiber Septim Hotel.

As I close the door behind me, I gasp with all of the innocence of a farm girl. Rich tapestries adorn the wall and the furniture is covered with thick silks and deep velvets. Wooden chairs remain shiny and unscratched, like new.

The inhabitants of the inn are wearing finer clothes than I've ever had the privilege of adorning my body with, making my cheeks flush red when I realize how out of place I must look with my wild red hair and simple dark green cloak.

I step up to the stone counter where a woman in black and burgundy scribbles notes into logs. She looks up at me, her eyes darting over my attire before resting on my face again.

"Welcome, friend, to the Tiber Septim Hotel. I am Augusta Calidia, your hostess." She's an Imperial with a snooty voice that makes me want to rip her throat out.

I force a smile. "I'd like to rent a room for the night." I still have a whole day before the disease finally sets into my body and makes me kin to Vicente, but that doesn't mean I don't need sleep.

Augusta's eyes still flick over my appearance, as if she's trying to deduce whether or not I can pay. "Why, yes. I do have a lovely room available for a mere 40 gold a night. Are you interested?"

I reach into my coin purse from under the cloak and pull out the gold, placing them on the counter.

She flashes me a professional smile. "Excellent. The room is on the floor upstairs, at the west end of the hall. I do hope you rest well."

I hesitate before heading off to the stairs. Might as well ask her about the target, right?

"Would you happen to know anything about an elf named Faelian?"

The Imperial narrows her eyes at me. "I might know him. I might not. I don't see how it's any of your business." Her eyes flick over me again, as if trying to figure out what kind of a person I am.

I sigh inwardly before reaching yet again into my coin purse and pulling out a handful of the gold pieces. I place them on the counter before her, watching as her eyes widen.

"Now I'm going to ask you again, what do you know about the elf named Faelian?" My voice takes a dangerous edge and I watch the slight amount of panic cross over Augusta's face, as if she just realized that I'm not someone she wants to mess with.

"F-Faelian?" Her voice quivers before continuing. "Oh, I know him all right! A waste of life, that one. He lives here you know, with his sweetheart, Atraena. What that poor girl sees in him I'll never know. Atraena pays for their room, their food, everything. She's quite wealthy, I believe. Faelian used to have money... used to be quite a gentleman, too. But that was before he took a fancy to the... you know. The skooma. Now Faelian's hardly ever here. He's off using skooma, or wandering the city looking for some, I imagine. He comes back every night to be with Atraena, but only for a few hours. I swear, that High Elf is going to wind up dead if he keeps living like this."

The entire speech is said quickly, coming out in nearly one breath of air. When she's done she smiles at me before sweeping the coins off the counter.

"So Atraena lives in the hotel?"

Augusta's head bobs up and down. I nod at her before heading up towards my room, leaving the Imperial woman to count the gold I bribed her with. I've heard of Skooma from the books I used to read. Nasty stuff it is; I'd never want to get addicted to it.

Pushing open the door to the room, I almost gasp out loud. A large, soft, plushy-looking bed with fluffy pillows and an intricate headboard waits in the center of the room. Beautiful tapestries and indoor plants sit on the walls and on end tables, adding color. Thick, creamy colored curtains with white lace hang on the windows. If I had lots of money, I'd want a huge room like this for me and Vicente to stay in…though I know he'd never like sleeping on a mattress.

I drop my bag inside and run to the bed before flopping into it. The comforter is soft against my cheek and I want to curl up and sleep, but I know I still have business to attend to. Sighing, I sit up and dig through my bag, pulling out a dark blue satin gown.

After changing and wrapping up my Dark Brotherhood armor inside my cloak before hiding it, I head back down towards the lobby. The blue dress is foreign on my body; something I picked up on my travels as to not arouse suspicion.

Surprisingly, a few people mingle in the lobby downstairs…including a tall Altmer woman dressed in deep green silks, who must be Atraena. Taking a deep breath, I pull the tie out of my braid so my wavy red hair falls down my face and over my chest in an attempt to look more elegant. It's time to mingle with the locals.

I stride across the floor up to her. She turns her head to me, a polite smile etched across her sharp features.

"Yes, my good Lady? How may I help you?" She sweeps her eyes over me, an occurrence that seems to be common place in this hotel. I must past her test because she turns to give me her full attention.

"I just want to introduce myself," I deliver smoothly. "I am Rivera." The Breton name rolls easily off my tongue. As a little girl, I always wanted to name a child Rivera, but now that I'm almost a vampire, it seems I'll just have to settle for having it as my alibi.

She flashes me a big smile. "I am Atraena; it is pleasant to meet you."

"Would you like a drink?" I hold my hand out toward a seat in the center of the room and she sits down. I walk over to the counter where Augusta is and buy some expensive wine. Hopefully if I can get her drunk enough she'll talk…

I pour us both glasses, although I prefer to work without my judgment clouded by alcohol. Perhaps once I'm off a contract and together with Vicente…

Atraena takes a drink of wine after rolling it around in the glass. "This is nice wine you bought. A lady who knows her tastes is impressive."

I avoid blushing. A matter of luck, I suppose, given I just pointed to a bottle and paid the gold for it, leaving a dent in my coin purse.

"What brings you to the Tiber Septim Hotel?" I inquire to her, hoping to delay her long enough to get some information.

The Altmer woman grimaces. "I live here for the time until I can find a more suitable home. How about you?"

Feigning a smile, I utter the first excuse that comes to mind. "I'm a business woman. I have work here in the Imperial City."

It seems that the wealthy Altmer is mostly concerned with class and money because her eyes light up and she grins at me. "Intelligent _and_ good taste in wine. You're my kind of woman."

I laugh almost nervously and refill her glass as she finishes it. "It's awfully lonely to stay in a big hotel like this in the Imperial City alone."

I note how quickly she takes another gulp of wine, her cheeks flushing pink. "Well…I'm not alone. I have Faelian…my sweet…my true love." Her voice is hesitant and I process her words in my mind. Something about the way she phrases the sentence suggests her love life isn't stable.

"Sounds like there is trouble in paradise." I take a small sip of my wine. It is thick upon my tongue, sweet yet bitter.

Atraena doesn't respond. "How about you? Is there someone for you?" She looks up at me with big, slanted green eyes.

"Well…yes. He couldn't come with me though." His aged, wrinkled face flashes in my mind and I smile to myself.

"What is his name?" She leans forward now. This woman definitely has a soft spot for romance. I can imagine that she reads those romantic books like _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. Actually, I think Ocheeva is one of those types, too.

"His name is Vicente. He's my true love." At this I actually do smile, a warm feeling washing over me. _My true love._ "He wants me to share an eternity with him." Well, to be fair, he never actually _said_ that, but the way his eyes light up whenever we talk about my impending vampirism…it is clear to me that he wants to covet me for an infinite amount of time.

Atraena opens her mouth, emitting a soft sigh. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard. When is the big day?"

"Big day?" I echo, my mind drawing a blank. What does she mean?

"Well surely you're getting married, aren't you?"

I almost gasp, flushing red. "I – I don't know. We haven't planned anything." Marriage? Is that what Vicente wants?

I try to imagine myself in a fluffy white dress, hanging on his arm at the alter, taking his name…Zaris Valtieri?

No. I shake the thought away. We're assassins…I can't imagine him ever proposing to me. We haven't even said the 'L' word yet. _Love._

"Oh, well I hope you work it out soon. I wish…" She falters, her voice dropping off, a distant look in her eyes. It only lasts a second before she shakes her head. "Well, never mind. I won't bore you with details."

I take another drink of my wine before scooting to the edge of my seat. Atraena's golden features are colored now, the alcohol playing a toll on her as she pours her third glass.

"You can tell me. I don't mind." I smile gently at her. After a minute her features soften, and tears begin to prick at the corner of her eyes. She pulls out a handkerchief and daps at them.

"Please, I... I don't mean to get emotional but... I feel I can trust you."She sniffles and I nod at her, willing her to continue.

"I just don't know what to do about Faelian! All he thinks about, all he cares about, is skooma! He was a fine young man once. But he's lost everything. His looks, his money... his self-respect. I followed him a few times, to see where he goes. He walks around the city looking for skooma, and then goes to Lorkmir's house for several hours. It's in the Elven Gardens District. I think the house is deserted!" Her voice rises as she becomes agitated. "That's why he goes there. So he can escape from life and do his skooma!" With a huff and a few tears sliding down her cheeks, she settles back into her seat before finishing off another glass of wine.

"Thank you for listening. You're a good friend. I just hope my sweet Faelian can clean himself up, or that awful skooma will be the death of him!"

I have the information I need. I stand up and pat her on the shoulder.

"If you don't mind, I need to get to bed to wake up early tomorrow for work. But…you can keep the wine."

Atraena glances up at me, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you…Rivera, was it? You're very kind."

I just smile at her again, avoiding cheering as I head back up to my bed.

* * *

 

I carefully rotate the pick, trying to unlock the door to Lorkmir's house. I listen for the click, which soon follows. If Atraena is correct, Faelian should be in here…and then I can kill him and be done with the contract and return to Cheydinhal.

Today is the last day of my humanity before I become a vampire, but I don't feel any different. I still like normal food and the sun provides welcoming warmth on my skin. This is probably normal, though. I know I'll be like Vicente before the day is through.

When I enter the house, Faelian is nowhere in sight, but the first floor has been trashed. Ingredients and foodstuff lie smashed on the floor, bits of glass scattered everywhere. I navigate around the mess to a set of stairs heading into the basement.

As soon as I descend the stairs it is clear why the house is abandoned. A thick smell permeates the air and I cover my nose. The decomposing body of the man who must be Lorkmir lies in a dried pool of his own blood, clearly stabbed to death, the weapon nearby. I imagine Faelian must have done this.

I hurry and rush back up to the first floor to escape the scent of rotting flesh, nearly running into an Altmer man.

"Hey…how did you get in here? Are you here for the skooma?" His eyes have a glassy tint to them and his voice is rough, clearly affected by the drug he's been taking. There are dark bags under his eyes.

Time to get to work. I hold out my hands, taking his face in them. "It's time to sleep now. Hush, dear Faelian." My hands tingle for the kill, and I find myself almost lusting for the blood to well out of his veins and onto the floor.

He looks in my general direction, but I feel as though his gaze passes right over me. "Sleep? But... Nah. No, I... I'm not tired. Not tired right now. I have lots of... you know... energy. The skooma! I can feel it.. in my veins..."

My hand slowly drifts to my belt where I unsheathe Sufferthorn, accompanied by the usual slink of metal on metal. Faelian's eyes open wide but he never has a chance to call for help. Before he's quite realized it, the dagger is buried in his heart and he falls over backwards, red blossoming on his tunic. My heart swells in my chest and I bend down, running my finger through the red liquid.

"Good night, Faelian," I whisper to the corpse as I pull myself away, somewhat dazed by the kill, and then sneak out of the house.

* * *

 

I get back to Cheydinhal while it is still light. The Black Door slides silently open for me, and I caress the cold metal before entering my beloved Sanctuary.

"Gak!" A skeleton guardian waves his hand at me as I stride pass him, and I smile. Even for being large skeletons, the guardians are awfully friendly and have grown on me, almost as much as Schemer. I like to scratch the rat's head whenever he brushes up against my leg.

As I pass the training room I hear some light, playful arguments and the sound of weapons hitting weapons as my family trains together, but I continue down the hallway.

Ocheeva is sitting in her room when I enter, picking over a piece of fish while reading _The Lusty Argonian Maid_. She grins at me and motions for me to sit down with her.

"Greetings Sister. I trust you travelled well?" Her raspy voice fills the silence and I smile, happy to be back at home. My brothers and sisters are family to me, and I miss them anytime I am gone.

"Just fine, thank you Ocheeva. The Night Mother's work has been completed."

She gives me a large, toothy grin "That's wonderful to hear. The High Elf Faelian now swims in the maelstrom of darkness at the feet of our Dread Father, Sithis. And, there were no witnesses to your handiwork. Because of the discretion you exercised, Captain Phillida will not suspect the Dark Brotherhood was involved, and will not meddle in our affairs."

Adamus Phillida, I actually forgot about him. Thank Sithis the contract went okay, I wouldn't want to have botched it up and drawn unwanted attention to our family.

"Here is your reward and bonus. Both have been well earned! Go now and rest, and may the Night Mother guard your dreams." The Argonian hands me a coin purse, one of the magically enchanted ones that is bigger on the inside, and a bow that looks somewhat like something I could have gotten at a weapon smith if it were not for the deadly enchantment that pulses through my hands when I hold it.

I string the bow over my back. "Thank you Ocheeva. Do you have another contract for me?"

She scoops up another bite of fish while she talks to me. "Yes I do. It relies on your ability to remain fully undetected."

Well, I think I can do that. I got through the Imperial prison completely undetected. I nod my head and she continues.

"Excellent, you truly are as eager as Vicente says you are." My cheeks flush red, and laughs throatily. "Now listen closely. Nestled in the mountains to the west lies Fort Sutch. It is the home of the warlord Roderick and his mercenaries. Roderick has recently taken ill. He now lies in eternal slumber, kept alive only by the daily administration of a powerful medicine. You must infiltrate Fort Sutch, find Roderick's medicine, and replace it with a poisoned bottle I will provide. But you must remain undetected! Whomever arranged this contract wants it to look like Roderick died from his illness, so discretion is essential. Attack no one! Be seen by no one! If you are detected, the poisoning will fail, and Roderick must be killed in some other manner." She hands me the poisoned bottle which I tuck into a loop on my armor.

"It will be done." I try to make sure to fulfill my contracts to the exact descriptions. What good is an assassin for Sithis if they cannot follow directions?

"I know you will do well. Now get some rest, Sister." Ocheeva rubs my shoulder affectionately and I smile at her.

"I will." I nod and head towards the Living Quarters with the intent to change. A couple of days of wearing leather tends to make one's joints hurt and feel stiff. As I enter into the bedroom, I am greeted by frantic waving from Antoinetta, who is lying on her bed reading.

"How'd it go?" She greets me, her voice as high pitched and excited as ever.

"It was alright - more or less a boring and easy job. I had to suck up to some Altmer woman and then kill her boyfriend." I unbuckle the straps on my armor, slowly removing it to change into something more comfortable. Antoinetta laughs before falling silent for a second.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be a vampire today? I mean that is why you let Vicente bite you, right?"

I stiffen, my knuckles tightening on the leather before pulling it off roughly. "I will be, just give it time."

"But you don't feel any different? You certainly don't look any different." She swings her legs over to the edge and stares at me, somewhat unnerving as I change into a pair of cloth pants and a blouse.

Ignoring her, I toss my armor into my truck. I _will_ be a vampire. Maybe you don't know it until it happens…I mean, I didn't drink any potions or do anything to prohibit the process.

"I need to go and see Vicente," I grunt to her, before exiting the room.

* * *

 

I raise my hand to knock on the door, but before my fist even meets the wood a hand snakes out and grasps the front of my shirt, pulling me inside and shoving me against the wall.

"So you just thought you'd ask me for the Gift so I would suck your blood and then cure yourself? What game are you playing at?" Vicente's hand wraps around my throat, his red eyes in my face, fangs at the ready.

Fear spikes through my body. "I'm not playing at any game!" I choke out from underneath his dangerous grip. My eyes keep drifting down to his fangs and for the first time in a while, I truly am terrified of what he's capable of.

"You should be a vampire and you're _not!"_ Hurt flashes over his features and I feel a pang of remorse. Vicente has made an oath not to drink the blood of any family members – the only exception he made was for me because I planned to join him in the night.

"I didn't – " My voice catches and I choke, "do anything! I've been counting the days hoping for it!" Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

Unreadable emotions cross his face before he slackens his hand and pulls it away. I cough and choke, reading up to touch my tender neck as tears fall over my cheeks.

Vicente closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Please don't cry." He pulls me into his arms and I bury my face into his shirt.

"I d-didn't d-do anything to n-not become a vampire!" My voice is muffled in his shirt as I hiccup and clutch him.

He's silent for a moment, rubbing his hand over my hair. "Alright, I believe you. But I don't understand how you _couldn't_ become a vampire, considering how many times I bit you, unless you're somehow…"

Vicente's voice travels off, and after several minutes of a long silence, I look up from his shirt to see his face. He's stark white, more pale than I've ever seen him.

My teeth connect with my lip and my heart begins racing. Why is he afraid?

"What? Please tell me what's the matter? I'm somehow what?" I attempt to shake him, but that's about as useful as trying to topple a brick wall with a feather.

His red eyes dart down to me. "What do you know about your family and their history?" His voice is very quiet, nearly a whisper.

I shake my head. "Well nothing really, my family were all just normal people who – " Vicente opens his mouth, interrupting me.

"Zaris, what is your family name?" His hands tighten on my shoulders.

Feeling confused, I pull my eyebrows together. "I don't see how that is important."

"Please Zarissis, what is your family name?" His voice has a note of urgency I've never heard before, and I simply look at up him. If he sounds like this, then it must be important.

"My full name is Zarissis Rahallen."

Vicente's eyes widen and he releases me before pulling away from me until he's facing the wall, running his hands over his face.

"Oh Sithis, why did it have to be _you?"_ He sounds so disparaging, but I don't know why he's upset. His words hit a chord in me that hurts. Why would he say something like that?

I cross my arms, feeling defensive. "Tell me what you know _now_ and stop hiding it from me. What does my family name have to do with anything, especially with being unable to become a vampire?"

Slowly, Vicente turns around to face me. His eyes are guarded, much like the day he offered to change me. Whatever this is, he's afraid of getting hurt.

"Zaris," he begins slowly, resting his hands on the back of a chair. "The Rahallens are a family of vampire _slayers."_

The silence that followed was so thick I could have heard a pin drop from the Main Hall.

 

**Oooh, I'm a meanie for hanging it here! This was mostly just a filler chapter, but the next one will be more exciting!**


	11. The Traitor Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris learns of her heritage, meets a fellow brother, completes a contract, and has a horrible surprise...

"I – I… what?" I splutter out the words, my mouth hanging open. _Vampire slayers?_

Vicente pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sit down, and I suppose I'll give you a history lesson." He sounds exasperated, so I quickly plop down in the chair next to him as he sits. _Vampire slayers? Vampire…slayers?_

I run the words over and over again in my head. Will this change the way Vicente feels about me? Will he stop…

I pause in my thinking. I almost said ' _loving'_ , but I don't know if he really loves me or not. He's lived for three hundred years; I'm sure there has been someone who was more important to him than me. I swallow hard, fighting back the distraught emotions that threaten to burst out of my chest.

"The Rahallens started out as a family in a Breton town in High Rock many generations ago, before even I was born. Unfortunately," Vicente slows down, his face unreadable, "they had quite the vampire problem. The particular town in question was settled next to a coven." The vampire pauses, seeing my look of confusion. "A coven is a group of vampires that live together and hunt together. Usually they are united under a patriarch or matriarch."

"Did you ever live in a coven?" I burst out. It strikes me how little I know about my lover, other than his current condition and current settlement in the Dark Brotherhood.

Vicente grimaces. "A long time ago, after I was first turned. I returned to stay with the vampires who changed me; however, I still remembered some of my humanity and was horrified by their practices and views of human life. I left and hunted in secret until the Dark Brotherhood found me."

"How did they treat – " Just as I go to inquire of the conditions of humans, a firm glare from Vicente closes my mouth. Clearly it was bad enough that I'm not allowed to know, even if my curiosity is spiked.

Without any further interruptions from me, my vampire continues. "Every night, the vampires who lived in the coven would snatch women, children, and even men who stayed out too late or were unprepared in their homes. The Rahallen family was the wealthiest in town, and a group of their strongest men decided to go on a journey to Boethiah's shrine and plead for a way to fight back and defend their town."

"Boethiah, however, was not willing to give them help for nothing. The men were set against each other in battle, to fight to the death for a chance to help their town. The winner was a man named Theodane who was given the sword Shahote, rumored to be able to strike down a vampire in one blow."

"However, Shahote wasn't the only 'gift' given to the Rahallens. Theodane also begged Boethiah for his own personal strength to survive against the creatures, that their family line would not be plagued by vampirism. Boethiah agreed, and the Rahallen curse began."

"Curse?" My voice sounds small and tiny. The idea of any sword being able to strike down Vicente makes me sick to my stomach.

He nods. "Vampirism and the immortality it gives are achieved not only through the disease but through death. What Theodane was given prevented his family from dying to supernatural deaths – or mainly, death caused by vampires and the undead. Although some of the initial lore has been lost, I am in the understanding that a Rahallen later went back to the shrine and performed a demeaning ritual to essentially make themselves undead so as to be able to hunt down vampires for the rest of eternity."

I feel a wave of confusion wash over me. "So they turned themselves into vampires to fight vampires?"

Vicente shakes his head. "No, they cursed themselves so that those hunters who performed the ritual would not be able to die, even if their bodies began to rot away, so that they might continue their work of hunting."

I run my fingers over my lips. "But what about the sword Shahote? Why would they need to become undead if they had a sword that could kill vampires easily?"

"The sword has been lost for many years. Every couple of centuries a champion comes forth bearing it, but the exact legend on who can bear it is vague. I do not know if there is a current champion of Rahallen living…or unliving, so to speak."

"So I can't become a vampire _ever?"_ My voice sounds crushed and distraught to my ears. Vicente frowns and reaches forward, brushing my cheek.

"I do not know. I have never heard of it." Vicente pauses before speaking again. "You must know that the Rahallens do not _only_ fight vampires. They will kill anyone and everyone who sympathizes or associates with them, including children. They have become bloodthirsty through hate and will stop at nothing to achieve their motives."

We both fall quiet and I try to process the information he has told me. My family would kill me for simply _knowing_ Vicente? I shake the thought from my head. No, I can't imagine my mother and father or my two brothers ever killing me. They'd be understanding…right?

Vicente is watching me closely, gauging my reactions. I feel a pang of sadness lodge in my heart. "Does this mean you don't want to…you know…like me anymore?" I wring my hands and stare at the table, unable to meet his eyes.

A cold hand reaches underneath my chin and lifts it up, forcing my eyes to meet Vicente's red ones.

"Sweet child, innocent being, I will always like you. Your family will not change how I feel about you." With that he releases my chin and tugs on my arms, pulling me onto his lap in a hug. I turn to face him and he seizes my mouth in a kiss. I run my hands over his neck as he aggressively tugs at my lips with his teeth. I moan into his mouth and he lifts me as easily as a feather, turning me around so I am straddling his hips.

Cupping my face in his hands, Vicente pulls away. "Whatever you are, whatever your family is, will not change how I feel about you."

A gentle grin tugs at my lips as I see the affection in his eyes, carved into the deep wrinkles on his face as he smiles at me. I wonder if it should bother me that I'm in a relationship with a man old enough to be my great-great-grandfather.

The thought is soon lost as he leans his face in close to my neck, holding me close. My breath hitches in my chest, anticipating the sharp bite of fangs sinking into my skin, but it never comes. Instead, feather-light kisses are planted on my collarbone and throat, making my head light.

"Vicente," I breathe out as I run my hands through his loose brown hair, rubbing his head with my fingertips. "Do you…love me?" My voice hitches up as I say the dreaded 'L' word.

The vampire stills against my neck, leaving the room so quiet all I can hear is my labored breathing, until, at last, he slowly pulls away to look at me.

His eyes are unreadable again, and I wonder if maybe it was too soon to ask the question. No, no of course he doesn't think of me like that, that's preposterous…yet something, deep, deep inside desperately wishes it were true.

I hold my breath, my heart pounding against my chest, which I'm more than certain Vicente is aware of. He doesn't say anything, instead placing his hand over my treacherous heartbeat.

"Are you hoping I love you?" There's a mischievous glint in his eye.

"No," I choke out, even though I wish he would. I just don't know if I could tell him to his face that I want him to love me, especially if he doesn't.

Vicente falls very silent, and I watch a small smile creep onto his face. "I can tell you are lying, Sister."

I make a squeaking sound. That's why he put his hand on my chest.

"Do you think I love you?" His voice is quiet, and I know better this time than to lie.

"No." My voice is weak to my ears. This time his smile falters, my heartbeat not betraying me.

The hand pressed to my heart moves to my neck, resting gently against my exposed flesh. "Why do you think that?" His gaze is intent and it feels as though he's staring into my soul.

"I…I,uh…" My voice falters in my throat. Unfortunately, at that precise moment it sounds as though someone is assaulting Vicente's bedroom door with their body.

He quickly, and very easily, lifts me up like a doll and sets me down in a chair. "Come in." I admire how steady his voice is, how easily he puts on a face and pretends he wasn't just kissing my neck. I, on the other hand, blush madly at the thought that I almost got caught straddling Vicente's lap…

Lucien opens the door calmly, but when he enters it is clear he is not at ease. The usual threatening brown eyes are unreadable and his shoulders are unusually stiff. I go to open my mouth and ask why, but just as he takes a seat, a brown haired man follows and closes the door.

He's wearing black robes, although not the Speaker robes, over his Brotherhood armor and his hair is short and messy. When he gets close and Lucien pulls over a chair for him, I can see dark brown eyes that are as empty as death itself. Something about him throws me off and makes me uncomfortable, the hair on my arms rising beneath my armor.

Vicente stands up and grabs a bottle of wine and some goblets from a cupboard, pouring us each a glass before sitting back down.

"This is our fellow brother, Mathieu Bellamont." Lucien's voice is steady, but for some reason I feel as though he's equally put off by the man as I am. "He's just in town visiting after finishing a contract."

The disturbing Brother smiled. "I know Vicente already, but you never told me what a new beautiful Sister you recruited, Lucien." He turns to me, and my blood runs cold. "Although I have heard of her, there are rumors of her talent in killing efficiently. Still, you did not tell me how… _striking_ she is." He smiles viciously and I swallow hard.

Out of the corner of my eye, Vicente freezes, goblet midway to his mouth. I flick my eyes over to him and see a dangerous look plastered behind his red eyes.

My eyes are torn away from my vampire as Mathieu grabs my hand, lifting it to his lips. I suppress a shudder.

Lucien clears his throat and Mathieu releases my hand, turning to look at him. "Is there something you came here for, or did you just want to harass my Sister?" The deep scowl set in the Speaker's face suggests that he is as equally annoyed by Mathieu's sudden interest in me as I am.

It takes me a minute to process that Lucien Lachance referred to me as _his_ Sister. I blink several times, confused by all the attention getting tossed my way.

"A little possessive there, Speaker? After all, aren't families supposed to… _share?"_ My entire body tenses up and I can hear the blood rushing through my ears.

"Enough!" Lucien's voice is sharp and Mathieu glowers, sinking back into his seat. "We do not talk about _anyone_ in this Sanctuary that way. Do it again and I will personally remove you." There is an unspoken fury boiling beneath the surface on Lucien's face and I feel as though he's seconds away from exploding and tearing out Mathieu's throat.

"Well, I simply came for a calm conversation, but I can tell when certain family members do not want me. I'll simply go and spend time with my other Brothers and Sisters." Mathieu's voice has a dangerous edge to it and I get the feeling that this man is not one to be trifled with.

He stands up and with a curt nod, exits the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as I hear his footsteps fade down the hall, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, my heart racing so fast it makes my head dizzy.

It takes me a second to register a hand on my shoulder. I look to the side and see Lucien staring at me intently. "Are you okay?"

I finally manage to control my fear and choke out something intelligible. "I'm fine."

"Good, good. I have business to attend to, so I'll leave you." With that Lucien finishes his goblet of wine before exiting the room.

As soon as he's gone, I'm literally swept out of the chair by a very angry and possessive vampire and wrapped up in tight arms.

"Vicente…you're going to break…ah!...my ribs." He quickly loosens his grip before seizing my chin and pressing my untouched goblet of wine to my lips, pouring the liquid into my mouth with more fervor than necessary.

"Vicente!" I manage to cough out. The vampire quickly pulls the wine away from my mouth as it spills over my chin, soaking into my armor.

"Sorry." I look up to see a concerned expression, yet anger is still etched into the corners of his mouth. "I could smell your fear, and _hear_ it. I wanted to calm you down. And myself." His hand delicately tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"Yes, well you do not need to _force-feed_ me wine to calm me down. I'm not a child." My tone is clipped and I can hear my shortness with him, making me cringe inside. Vicente withdraws, and I instantly regret it.

He looks away, his jaw clenched. "I apologize, _Sister_. I do not know what came over me."

I sigh. "Look, I didn't mean to be short with you, but _by Sithis_ , even if the man is a creep, you don't have to attack me and baby me." We both fall dreadfully silent for a time. I feel a little bad for scolding him, but his sudden assault was surprising.

After a moment, I release a little giggle. He turns to me, looking confused.

"I thought you were going to string Mathieu up and rip out his insides." I giggle again.

A slow smile spreads across Vicente's face. "The thought did cross my mind."

I shake my head. "But the Tenets remain."

"Of course, lovely Sister."

* * *

Navigating through Fort Sutch makes my stomach churn. Lucky for me though, the fort is rather big, and some of the hallways remain rather empty, allowing me to sneak through with more ease than I anticipated.

As I enter a large room on a top floor, I hear an echo of a voice.

"I just don't know, is the medicine sustaining Roderick's life, or just postponing his death?" The deep tone suggests it may be an Orc, but I don't stick around to find out. Carefully sliding along one wall, I slip into a hallway and check to see if there is anyone coming.

"How could he survive for so long…" The Orc's voice gets softer the farther I travel towards Roderick's bedroom until it fades. Navigating down a few more hallways, I tiptoe silently into Roderick's bedroom.

The Redguard warlord lies unconscious on his bed across the room. I dash over to the cupboard and open it. (1)

Inside, next to a few blankets, is a vial of what I assume must be Roderick's medicine. I quickly reach into a pocket of my armor and pull out the poison, replacing it with the medicine.

The echo of a pair of footsteps down the hall alerts me, and I quickly close the cupboard, silently dashing off into another room behind a pillar.

A Redguard woman walks calmly across the room, clearly unaware of an assassin in her midst. I listen to her open the cupboard, pull out the medicine, and close the cupboard. Fearing what will come next, I quickly dash down the hall as fast as I can without making noise.

A shrill scream fills the air and I know my work is done; however, the other warriors are now aware something is wrong. I dash behind a pillar as the Orc I heard tramples by, his heavy footsteps echoing like thunder in the room.

Pillar to pillar, I somehow make it to the gate leading out, successfully avoiding being seen. As I close it behind me, I see a light shining ahead in the tunnel.

"Hello, someone there?" The thick High Rock accented Breton nears closer and I flatten myself to the wall.

The Breton falls silent for a minute before sighing. "Oh, guess I'm just seeing things." He starts walking away, heading down the tunnel I need to go to leave.

I peek around the corner as he goes. Up ahead is a turn. I watch the light of his torch slowly fade out as he rounds the turn and continues on before hopping down.

The light freezes. "Hello?"

I hold my breath and stay against the wall, hoping he doesn't come back the way he came and come around the corner and see me.

After many minutes of terrified silence, of which I swore he would have heard my heartbeat, the Breton mumbles and continues forward.

"I should cut back on the ale."

I glance over my shoulder. Another turn is ahead, and right behind it is the door I need to get out. I watch the Breton go around another corner before sneaking silently up to the turn and listen to his footsteps until they become softer and softer.

Satisfied, I look around, and not seeing any of Mr. Sexy-Accent-Man, I delicately open the door to the outside world and slip out. (2)

* * *

If it didn't take long enough to reach Kvatch just to get a room and eat before heading out to do my contract, it certainly will take just as much if not more time to reach Cheydinhal again.

I grunt as I ride Dusty along the main roads and easily kill the stupid and useless bandits with my bow atop his back. It's nice to think of it as easy target practice.

After a day and a half's journey and a stop at Skingrad to recuperate, I'm back on the Gold Road, heading towards the Imperial City.

It's a beautiful day and I sigh and run my fingers through Dusty's thick, gray mane.

"They say there is a traitor in the Dark Brotherhood, Dusty." I frown. Talking out loud to him is soothing, especially since his only response may be a soft snort. Helps me think.

"Why would someone betray our family? They're all so loving…if not murderous, cold-blooded assassins like myself." I laugh. Had you told me several months ago that I would be an assassin in the Dark Brotherhood I would have laughed in your face. Yet here I am, not even missing my family or my old life.

_And I have a lover_ , I add to myself. Yes, Vicente is a bonus…even if being a vampire slayer by birth _does_ cause a bit of a dilemma. Still, I would never kill him.

_Would you for the Night Mother though?_ A small voice whispers in my ear. _For Sithis? For Lucien?_

I never get a chance to answer that question because a loud _shhooop_ of something slicing through the air catches my attention, closely followed by searing pain in my shoulder.

If not for my hands wound up in Dusty's reins, I would have fallen off my horse. I look down to see an arrow buried halfway into my chest, above my heart. The skin around it begins to bubble a sickly white.

_I've been poisoned. I've been shot. I've been poisoned._ The thoughts swirl in my head over and over as Dusty gallops down the path, scared by the sudden assault of his rider. I can feel whatever was on the arrow slowly seeping through my veins, paralyzing me as it boils in my blood. I want to howl, but my lips refuse to open.

_Nobody knew about my contract. I thought nobody knew about my contract._ I almost vomit as my head spins, black dots appearing before my vision. _Who could have known about my contract?_

"Get me to Cheydinhal…please…" I murmur to my horse before the world goes black.

* * *

The pain is excruciating. Has it been hours, weeks, days, years, minutes? The Dark Brotherhood will miss me, think I died on the job…which, I think I nearly have.

I don't know where we are except for the pounding of Dusty's feet. My head swims and my entire body is paralyzed. I can tell my hands and chest are shaking, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it's about to burst out of my chest. I can't seem to get enough air into my lungs.

I fall forward into Dusty's mane and everything darkens again.

It's dark when I come to again, Dusty only trotting. The pain is worse and I try to cry out, but no noise leaves my dry tongue. My body feels like it is on fire, roasting me from the inside out.

Everything spins, spins, turns, twists, darkens, flashes, until finally I feel myself sliding off the horse, landing painfully on my back, the arrow twisting within my shoulder.

I stare upwards to the sky. _So many pretty lights_. _Little holes to the heavens._ I don't get to enjoy it for long because another fresh wave of agony washes over me and I try to squirm with no avail.

I can't do anything. I can only feel agony. The world is on fire. My body is on fire. _I am dying._

_I failed. I failed the Dark Brotherhood. I failed Lucien. I failed Vicente_.

My eyelids flutter closed, attempting to block out the heat.

* * *

Everything feels like it is under a thick layer of goo. There is a voice and something touching my face, maybe a hand, but I cannot make out the words.

Something is ripped out of my shoulder, and I try to scream, but my mouth doesn't work. I don't see anything though, only the blackness. My eyelids can't open anymore. I'm blind.

At once my back is no longer connected to the ground and I feel myself placed back onto something…Dusty, maybe?...and someone sits behind me, their arm wrapped around my waist.

My head lolls back against their shoulder. I don't think they know I'm a dead woman; should have just let me be. Everything hurts.

The thickness drowns me out and my body loses awareness of any sensation.

* * *

**From this point forward , I'm going to be switching between Zaris's point of view and a third-person point of view for Lucien and Vicente. Thank you for reading and reviewing! Your comments put a stupid smile on my face that lasts for hours and makes me want to put out chapters faster ^^**

**(1) Although I think the cupboard might be in a different room than his bed in game, we'll just pretend they are in the same room.**

**(2) Vicente has a High Rock accent, as does the Breton in the Fort. Zaris is rather fond of Vicente's voice, and she thinks it is sexy, hence why she thinks the Breton also has a sexy voice.**


	12. I Dreamed A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris is near death and Vicente wants to make her happy.

The sun beats down on my neck as I gather the eggs from the chickens my family owns. They peck at my legs through my old dress, though I don't mind really because they're just chickens; they don't understand the complex emotions that humans go through or even the annoyance of having one's legs pecked at.

I pat one on the back, only to get a harsh peck at my wrist. The wound swells slightly with blood and I give it a glance before wiping it on the underside of the hem of the raggedy dress and pressing the cut against my tongue, hoping to stop the bleeding. It's one of those things I've done since I was little – you suck on a cut, and it stops bleeding.

Just as I look up, I see a strange man leaning against the gate, his eyes set on me. He has a roundish face, slight stubble remaining on his chin. His clothes are far too fancy for this area, a black vest pulled over a dark grey long sleeve shirt, despite the warmth. There is a solid gold pendant hanging from his neck, catching the light.

I pull my bleeding wrist from my lips. "Can I help you, sir?"

"You consume your own blood?" He has a thick accent, the likes of which I've only heard on Breton merchants as they come down from the Imperial City. A small smile plays on his lips, his blue eyes sparkling.

"Stops the bleeding." That being said, I press the nick back to my tongue. I give the man another look over. "Have we met?"

"Perhaps." He tilts his head to one side and doesn't say anything else.

I just stare at him. Indeed, something seem familiar about the way his brown hair has been tied into a ponytail, and the way his eyes crease when he smiles reminds me of someone…someone from so long ago…

My eyes drag down to the amulet around his neck, magical runes engraved around the edges. At least, I think they're magical…

When my eyes flick back to his eyes, I nearly fall back in surprise. "You…your…" My voice falters in my throat.

"Do not be unnerved by my appearance, sweet child." The face that was full of youth is sunken and gaunt, and when he smiles I see fangs. The eyes are dark red and piercing, yet he looks at me with all the familiarity of a friend.

* * *

Shadowmere insisted on being particularly stubborn that day, digging her hooves into the soft earth and _refusing_ to go anywhere, even when Lucien would threaten to not give her anymore Nightshade as a snack for a week.

The Speaker grunted, feeling particularly angry that day. They hadn't even passed the Imperial City, for Sithis's sake, and Shadowmere was already starting her usual tricks. Normally, Lucien could spare the time to coax the mare into behaving through soft words and treats, but there was a Black Hand meeting in Bravil. With a traitor on the loose, anything could make someone appear suspicious.

He sighed. All the clues pointed towards Cheydinhal, towards _himself!_ Lucien wasn't stupid. When he realized what was going on, the first person he turned to had been Vicente.

Everyone in Cheydinhal could be guilty except Zarissis, therefore Lucien was not surprised when the Black Hand chose to promote her over and over, even after a few short successes. The girl is bound to fail, and Lucien didn't want to be around to see it.

_But what if she doesn't fail? What is the Black Hand preparing her for?_

Lucien shook off the voice in the back of his head. _No_ , no. He couldn't think like that; the reality would be too painful.

Still, he had hoped to score the new Breton recruit, and felt a slight pang of jealousy seeing how taken she quickly became with the resident vampire. However, Lucien had to admit that his best friend _had_ gotten him out of some sticky situations in the past and never asked for anything in return. He could settle with Vicente getting the girl…just this once. It didn't stop him from spying on her while she bathed, though.

After all, who didn't want to look at her alabaster skin dusted over with freckles, silky, long orange locks draping over her round breasts and smooth back? Lucien wanted to lay her down on his bed and kiss over her hip bones and gently lap at the scars on her ribs before sucking the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs. He wanted to make her _scream_ in a way that Vicente never could since he lacked Lucien's sexual prowess. Lucien may have surrendered the lovely red-head to Vicente, but in his mind, she belonged to _him_ , and one day he'd make sure to leave his mark on her body, that even when she curled up at night on Vicente's coffin, her skin would grow warm and her sex wet from thinking about _Lucien_ , and when Vicente would pleasure her, hitting that same sweet spot until she was convulsing and shaking at the heights of their lovemaking, she'd scream _Lachance!_

Shadowmere's high-pitched whine pulled Lucien from his fantasies, though it did not stop an erection from forming underneath his robes. Fighting the urge to stand on the side of the road and pleasure himself until he came all over his hand, Lucien patted the mare's head.

"Please, I need to get to Bravil." Normally he wouldn't beg his horse, but given that he was already late, he could make an exception.

Shadowmere still shook her head as if to say no.

"Fine then, you damned demon horse! I'll walk." Scowling, Lucien set down the shadowed path, magic ready at his fingertips in case something jumped out of the darkened forest.

Lucien figured if he walked far enough that Shadowmere would eventually give in to his wishes and come trotting after him like she often would. It wasn't a terrible night for a walk, either.

The Speaker hadn't gotten far when he saw something strange out of the corner of his eye. Turning towards the forest, he squinted.

Sure enough, Lucien could make out the black silhouette of an unmounted horse standing idle and occasionally nudging something on the ground with its snout. Curiosity spiked, Lucien stepped toward it in the shadow.

The first thing that became clear was the horse's pale grey coat. He swore he'd seen the beast somewhere, but then again, gray horses weren't exactly uncommon.

The second thing he noticed was the odd streak of color in the grass – a dull, burnt orange lying immobilized, followed by the darker shape of a body. Lucien _knew_ he'd seen that hair from somewhere.

He burst forward, running with the agility and speed of an assassin, kneeling beside the body. Her eyes were closed, mouth parted slightly and foaming. An arrow was lodged deep within her shoulder, the skin around it bubbled and white. In fact, upon further inspection Lucien noticed all of her skin appeared burned…

Despite the injuries, the Speaker knew he was staring at the body of his newest recruit. He pressed a hand to her neck, careful to mind her wounds. Somewhere deep within her body was the fragile beat of a failing heart. Lucien had to act fast.

"Zaris, I don't know if you can hear me or how conscious you are, but I'm getting you back home." The damned meeting could wait. Wrapping his hand around the shaft of the arrow, he pried it from her flesh, though she emitted no cry.

Carefully slipping his arms underneath her back and knees, Lucien lifted the assassin from the ground. Shadowmere was standing in the field, and when he neared, she lied down in the grass, obediently offering her back for the injured Sister.

Lucien settled Zaris onto the horse's back before climbing on himself, allowing her to rest against his chest. Sensing that they were settled, the mare stood off and shot towards Cheydinhal with all of the speed that a demonic horse could possess.

Zaris wasn't stupid enough to get herself shot by some regular bandits, and Lucien had never seen a poison that caused injuries like hers. No, the poison on the arrow was sophisticated – an assassin's poison.

The Black Hand had assigned her contract, and apart from Ocheeva, Lucien, and Vicente – if she told him about it – only the Black Hand and their Silencers would have known of Zaris's whereabouts.

Lucien's blood ran cold. Ocheeva was as loyal to the Dark Brotherhood as death itself, and Vicente would never harm the girl. That meant the traitor was closer to the heart of the Brotherhood than he had realized.

He knew if he didn't get her back to Cheydinhal, she'd surely die. If Shadowmere hadn't put up such a fuss the entire journey, he wouldn't have found her. He'd make sure to give her as much Nightshade later as she could possibly eat. (1)

The mare continued onward, racing back to the Sanctuary with the speed of death.

* * *

Vicente shuffled through the papers, gazing at the contracts. The same old stuff, usually, except for perhaps a rather exciting contract here and there.

He was just about to put the pile back when a familiar name caught his eye. Pulling the parchment out of the stack, his eyes scanned it.

It was meant for Ocheeva to read, but it must have been put in his pile by accident. At the top in black ink and curvy, elegant letters was written, _Needs Zarissis's touch,_ signed _LL_.

Grinning to himself, Vicente set the contract aside. The child was a very interesting creature. Although she didn't have a particular flare to her killings to set her apart, she performed them near flawlessly, compared to the other members of the Sanctuary. Gogron was incapable of performing some of the more basic contracts due to his preferred method of _berserk_ , and Tel was a strict arrow-to-the-head kind of lady. In contrast, Antoinetta liked to sneak up on her contracts and confront them with a cruel smile before carving into their chests. M'raaj Dar only would use magic, and Ocheeva and Teinaava favored sneak-attacks. Even Vicente preferred to _drink_ his targets, requiring him to be more up-close and personal. However, Zaris seemed to manage with attacking in any way with any range, making her versatile and useful for contracts no one else could fill.

In the three hundred years he'd been living, there was one love interest that held his attention for many years, but even the memory of her began to fade away. However, there was something about Zaris that fascinated him, like a child with a new toy. When she first saw him, she made him so angry with her persistent questions that he _enthralled_ her, and then angry even more so when he had to care for her by carrying her to bed after she promptly fainted from her injuries. After assisting Ocheeva with putting her things away, he'd been humored to see many types of books in her possession, including _Immortal Blood_. In fact, from that point forward she seemed to make his life incredibly more interesting, from her irrational fear of the dark to Lucien's obsession with claiming her, a task it seems he failed miserably in.

He wasn't sure when his brotherly love became an adoration, but he suspected it could have been when he cleaned the mead and feathers out of her hair after the girl's night, and the child couldn't seem to take her eyes off him, heart pounding in her chest as she told him over and over how nice he looked. That was before she crashed unexpectedly into his mouth, of course.

It wasn't the truth when he told her he didn't feel the same for her in her drunken haze, but she was so young and innocent, and he so much older. He visited her in her sleep, stood over her and watched her pale little eyelids flutter and her chest rise and fall with each breath. The feelings that threatened to boil over were overwhelming and frightening. Other than the desire to care for her, underneath he was _still_ a vampire, and while she slept he wanted to pry her head up and sink his teeth into the soft flesh on her neck.

Yet, he couldn't say no to her forever. After hre first contract, when she returned smelling of blood and death, frozen to the bone, Vicente had stepped forward to warm the girl with magic. However, the moment his hands touched her face, it sounded like her heart exploded into a wild orchestra of beats, her pupils dilating quickly. Vicente had been flattered. He wanted to take her face into his hands and kiss her lips until she melted in his arms.

Therefore, when she bit down on her lip so hard it bled, it was his duty to make it stop bleeding for her through his gentle sucking, though the venom in his mouth wasn't enough to infect her with vampirism, even if she was capable of becoming one.

There was a sad pang in his heart. He had wanted to share many centuries with her by his side to enchant him with her many quirks and passionate lovemaking, but it seemed he'd have to settle for a normal human lifespan with her. He could live with that, even when it came to taking care of her fragile body as age wore down on her.

Vicente was pulled roughly from his reminiscing as shocked shouts rang out from the main hall, echoing over the stone walls. Vicente caught traces of _Zaris!_ and _Is she dead?_

With incredible speed, he was out of his chair and speeding down the hall.

Much to his horror, standing underneath the well was Lucien, holding a limp body in his arms, just a tangle of red hair over sickly pale skin.

If Vicente had a beating heart, it would have stopped.

* * *

"Vicente!" I cry out, rushing forward and wrapping my arms around him. The vampire snuggles his face into my neck while stroking my back.

Suddenly, I remember where I am. Pulling away, I stare down at my own, threadbare, dirty rags and filthy bare feet. The town around me is my old home town, the place I grew up in.

Slowly, I begin to recall the last contract. _Planting the poison. Riding with Dusty. And then the arrow…_

"Am I…dead?" My voice is very small and Vicente, for once, is the one who bites his lips, long fangs denting but not breaking the skin.

"Not…yet." There is a lost look in his eyes containing more sadness than I've ever seen one person have, as though the entire world is drowning in their depths.

"How am I here?" I back up from him now, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden shock. _I'm dying_. I don't feel like I'm dying.

"Among my powers as a vampire, I can enthrall you to see whatever I want you to see." His voice is dry and mechanical, as though this is difficult to tell me.

I piece the puzzle together in my head. "So if I'm dying, then you want me to see this?"

"So you don't feel pain." This time he jumps over the fence between us so suddenly it shocks me. I've always known he is agile, but I don't usually get to see it for myself. The way he gracefully glides over it makes me feel like the clumsiest person in the world.

He pulls me into his arms, kissing my head.

I pull out of his arms, looking at him steadily. "How can you make me see this," I motion towards my house and the town, "When you've never visited here?" For a dream, it feels so real, even down to the lovely smell of the soap he uses.

"I may be making you see it, but it is still your mind." We both fall silent for a while, and I step forward again, burying my face in his tunic. He smells the same as I remember and I want to melt into him, become _part_ of him, so that even when I'm gone he isn't alone.

"This is where you lived, then?" He pulls me away and places a hand on my back, looking it over with expressionless eyes.

It takes me a second to realize how I must look. I'm wearing the old rag dress, brown and filthy with holes all over. Dirt is caked into my nails and on my skin, my red hair disheveled and every which way. I blush furiously. It never used to faze me to look like a farm girl, as everyone else in my former town looks the same; only I've lived with more wealth in the Sanctuary than I've ever been used to, and I don't want to look so poor in front of Vicente.

"Y-yes," I stammered, taking his hand and pulling him towards the front door. My hand hesitates for a moment before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Sunlight drifts in through dirty windows, illuminating dusty air and dirt-covered floors. The sparse furniture is falling apart; numerous holes covering stained pillows where stuffing is pulling out. My face burns red at the impoverishment, and I feel the urge to hide.

My mom is across the room in the kitchen area, chopping up vegetables on a cutting board. Her long, pale blond hair is tied neatly behind her head, though a few stray loose strands poke out. She looks up when we enter, her delicate blue eyes catching mine.

"Hey, baby, would you mind – " Her voice cuts out when she sees Vicente behind me. Only then do I remember that he's a vampire. Panic shoots through my body and I spin around to warn him…only to see a youthful face and intense blue eyes where his red ones were. He's the man I saw in my dream before he faded into _my_ vampire.

Suddenly I realize that I'm looking at a pre-vampire version of him, although I can't help but wonder if this is how _I_ think he'd look; not how he actually did.

I turn back to my mother. "Mom, this is Vicente, he's my…friend."

She sets aside her knife and rubs her hands with a towel before stepping towards me. "You didn't tell me we were entertaining! Had I known I would have cleaned a bit…and for Shor's sake, Zarissis, can't you brush your hair! It looks like a Skeever nest!"

Before I quite realize what has happened, she's tearing at my hair viciously with a brush, pulling out pieces of grass and wheat while talking steadily to Vicente, who looks amused.

"I'm making a stew for dinner. I hope you don't mind all the dirt; not much time to clean when there are animals to feed and vegetables to pick." Another painful tear through my hair. "And Zarissis, I know you like your friend here, but Tristeran is coming later."

My entire body stiffens at the sound of his name. No…this is my dream. I'm not going to relive that again. If Vicente can make me see what he wants, then he should know that I do not _want_ to see the man who violated me again. He is dead and should stay dead. If it's my dream, then I should be able to change what happen.

"I killed him. He's dead." My voice is flat and the hairbrush stops in my hair. I hold my breath as my mom goes deathly silent.

After a moment, the hairbrush yanks back through my hair. "That's alright, dear. However, you should have already been married. A girl your age should have a husband by now." She brushes it off easily. Had this been reality, I imagine she would have fainted, tried to kill me herself, or even just laughed at me for being silly. Although, her comment about marriage makes me think that my knowledge of her personality still somewhat holds, despite the mirage before my eyes.

I sigh, exasperated. This was the argument we'd have day after day until my parents told me they had the last straw of my behavior as I ran through the woods wild and free, avoiding any contact with potential male suitors. I put my foot down and told them I wouldn't get married…and oh boy, they chewed me out. From that point on, I was silent and obedient, only able to dream in my head of liberation from social expectations. I was only willing to marry the man they picked out for me to make them happy. Although I wanted to be free, I wasn't willing to disappoint them.

"I'll marry her."

The words cut through my thinking, making some part of my mind go completely blank. Did he just…no, he couldn't have… _could he?_

"What?" I blurt out, my eyes widening as I stare up at Vicente. It could be my imagination, but I swear he looks excited about it. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, unusually real for something only happening in my head.

"I said I'll marry you. Right here, right now." My mom's hairbrush stills in my hair and I can sense her eyes on me, waiting for my response.

I try to grasp for an answer. I do think I would like to marry him…but this is just a dream.

_And you're a dying woman,_ a voice whispers in the back of my mind. I silently agree with it. Yes, I am in fact dying…I might as well enjoy it whatever way I can.

"You should ask me properly." My voice is dry when I say it, but I can't stop the corners of my mouth from twitching into a smile.

Vicente's eyes twinkle in a way I've never seen; it's as though his entire face brightens. He steps back a touch and lowers himself onto one knee, pants gathering dust from the floor. My mom releases my hair and walks to the side to watch, practically clapping her hands with joy.

He reaches up to his neck and unclips the gold amulet, holding it in one hand while he holds my hand in the other.

"Zaris," he whispers slowly. I blink, and in an instant he changes from his youthful appearance to the vampire I know and love. Suddenly, the room seems too small and everything is different, because he's now _my_ vampire proposing to me, not just a young representation.

"Will you marry me?" He presses the amulet into my hand, a fanged smile growing each second on his gaunt face.

I reach up and run my other hand over his sharp cheekbones and through the thin brown hair. He's not handsome like a pretty city boy; his face is sunken and wrinkled with piercing blood red eyes, he's three hundred years old and could enslave me to his will, and he's an assassin who kills innocent people for a living…but he's mine.

"Yes," I whisper, closing my hand around the gold amulet. He smiles thoughtfully and stands up, putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me. Then I feel the amulet pulled from my hand and clipped onto my neck, the weight new on my chest.

When I turn back to face him, I can barely contain the smile on my face, mirroring his own expression. He looks at me like a blind man who has seen the sun and I wonder if vampires feel stronger emotions than the living.

Whatever the case may be, it is soon forgotten as I rush forward, seizing his face as my lips assault his. He hums in amusement and kisses me back.

If I'm dying and this is my one chance, then I better take it… "Vicente," I mumble against his mouth. He pulls back slightly, and without waiting for an answer, the words burst from my lips. "I think I'm in love with you."

My mind dimly registers my mother's excited squealing about how her baby is finally growing up. Vicente pulls back, looking far away and deep in thought. I hesitate, fighting back the tidal wave of emotions that try to tell me that I might have spoken the wrong thing too soon, that I might scare him away, that assassin's _can't_ love…

After a moment, his classic smirk unfolds across his face. "And I love you."

My stomach flips over itself and I feel as though the world is caving in, my chest too tight for my lungs to fight back the tidal wave of exhausted joy, like finding relief in air after having held your breath underwater for too long. The warm feeling spreads over me. Perhaps this is what falling in love is supposed to feel like?

Vicente leans in for another kiss, reminding me of his hungry advances when he wants to suck on my neck while making love to me, but I can't help the retort that bubbles up in my mind before bursting from my lips.

"And they say romance is dead."

If I didn't think so highly of him, his sudden snorted laughter might have been unattractive. (2)

* * *

(1) Shadowmere is a demonic beast who likes to eat dangerous things like Lucien's poisoned apples and Nightshade.

(2) You know when you make someone laugh and they kind of do an inhaling snort? Yep, that.


	13. Bound Through Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarissis gets married and suffers the fate of her wound.

I could never imagine a dream world feeling so real. Rather than seeing a foggy, blurry, washed-out world like I'd expect, there are the vivid colors, warm heat from the weather, and the musty scent from the forest. The only clue that I have about my dream's validity is that one minute I'm kissing my lover and the next standing in a patch of garden in a white dress, although I seem to be able to recall the events between, including the excitement when I went to sleep last night.

Apparently my wedding…our wedding, is to be held in the forest at night under a full set of stars. Somehow it seems too perfect, but perhaps Vicente's access to my mind gives him knowledge of the hopes and dreams I've kept locked away for so many years. After all, every little girl dreams about her wedding.

 _Not many little girls marry vampires though_ , I add to myself silently.

I stand in a garden of brightly colorful flowers away from where the wedding is to be held while my mother fusses over my hair and dress, her blonde tresses tied up into a bun. It is the first time I have ever seen her with her hair off her shoulders in my life, and she's prettier than I remember.

I face an ornate mirror set up against a flowery background of buds closed tightly for the night, ready to open their winged petals to the morning glory. Several bright magelights illuminate the area, allowing my mother to tie the corset on my dress in the light.

I wonder if Vicente knows that I'd want our family to be at my wedding. Nothing would make me quite as happy as…

"Zaris! You look so beautiful!" A high-pitched squeal interrupts my thoughts and a smile forms on my lips before I've even turned toward the voice.

Antoinetta stands at the opening of the garden, a pale green dress hanging off her delicate frame. Behind her I see Ocheeva and Tel…also wearing pale green dresses with a bow around the waist.

"Can I do your hair?" Tel runs her fingers through the long red strands draped down my shoulders that fall over the jeweled bodice on my dress.

I nod and the women go to work, bickering like they usually do. Three pairs of hands twist and tie and pull, until one pair of hands leaves my head and goes to my face, patting makeup in just the right places.

Someone turns me to face the mirror, and I inhale sharply.

My freckled neck and shoulders are bare above a simple white dress, pearls sewn into the bodice thickly at the top of the dress and thinning out down my torso, gleaming faintly in the magelights. Someone thrusts something into my hands, and in the mirror I see myself holding a bouquet of white lilies against my stomach. My eyes travel from the flowers up my own neck to my face, where a light blush has formed on my cheeks. Soft brown shadows accentuate my eyes, although the makeup is hardly noticeable. However, the biggest change is in my hair. I don't know if this is something I've ever dreamed of, or something Vicente wanted for himself, but I stand open-mouthed.

The long red braid has instead been braided around my head, and strands of orange drape from the braid around my head. Ocheeva pulls out a veil connected to a silver comb, fitting it against the back of my head.

I reach my hands up and sweep the white veil over my face, as is the custom. For the first time in a truly long time, I feel nervous, my hands shaking slightly. Antoinetta cups them in her palms, smiling into my hidden face.

"Nothing can go wrong here, don't worry. Just be happy. He wants you to be happy."

I smile back at her, although she can't see it. "I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life."

"Good." With that she runs a hand down my arm and the girls nod to me, heading to their seats beyond the bushes. I look back in the mirror at myself.

 _Am I ready to do this?_ I look around for my mom, but she seems to have disappeared. Now it is just me by myself in a big dream world someplace far away, and I'm getting married.

I take a deep breath, and step out beyond the bushes.

Sitting turned around in their wooden benches are both of my families, assassins and blood relatives alike, waiting for me to walk down the grassy aisle.

The damp, dewy grass has light pink rose petals scattered over it, the drops of water shimmering in the moonlight. The scene is magical with dark trees in the background and a sky full of bright stars above the clearing, barely illuminating the muddy colors of the flowers around the wedding area. The comforting sound of crickets and trickling water can be heard from behind the greenery.

"My baby girl looks so beautiful," a gruff voice says from my side, and I turn to the blonde head and red face of my father, beaming up at me with rosy cheeks. My mother nods from his side, and I feel another smile form on my face.

I step out on the isle just to feel a tug at my dress. Looking down, Teinaava's toothy grin looks up at me from his seat. "Save the last vow for me, won't you Sister?" I know he's joking though, and he grips my hand in his comfortingly.

A few more steps and Antoinetta, Ocheeva and Tel all nod at me, while M'raaj Dar purrs enthusiastically. I find myself giggling, despite the rising tension in my stomach.

My eyes drift a little past them as I take another step, meeting Gogron's excited beaming face.

I look up, and finally rest my eyes on the altar. A light gasp escapes my mouth. There is no classic archway, but Vicente is wearing a dark suit with coattails, a lily pinned into his jacket. His thin hair has been brushed and tied neatly behind his head, allowing me to clearly see his gaunt features and sharp cheekbones. My green eyes meet his red ones through my white veil and warmth spreads throughout my body, my heart pounding helplessly against my ribcage

Slowly, ever so slowly, I watch him beam at me like a turned vampire who had seen the moon for the first time.

Standing next to him ready to bind us together is Lucien Lachance in his Speaker robes. I step up next to my beloved and look at his aged face. He's the last thing I'll see before I die…and I'm okay with that.

Lucien's brown eyes flick to mine and I swear I see some jealousy in their depths, but perhaps it is just my imagination.

"Hello, Zaris," Vicente reaches forward and pulls the veil back from my face, his eyes crinkling. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

I shyly flick my eyes to the ground and then back to his face. He winks playfully before turning to Lucien, who nods. "Are you both ready?"

We nod. Lucien takes a deep breath. "Under our Holy Matron, the Night Mother, and our Dread Father, we gather here today to bind this," he pauses and for the first time a smirk passes over his features, "vampire, and this lovely lady together here on Nirn and forever into the Void."

Vicente turns to me and takes my hands in his, his cold skin surprisingly soft against my heated palms.

Lucien nods at the red-eyed man. "Vicente Valtieri, do you take Zarissis Rahallen as your wife, both here on Nirn and later in the Void, to help her serve her duties to Sithis and the Night Mother, to love her and kill with her?"

My heart skips at the words, and Vicente flashes his fangs at me in a bright smile. "I do."

"And Zaris," Lucien says, facing me, "Do you take Vicente Valtieri as your husband, both here on Nirn and later in the Void, to help him serve his duties to Sithis and the Night Mother, and to love him and kill with him?"

I look at Vicente, skin pulled tightly over his bones and sharp eyes, not including the deadly fangs that had sunk into my neck many times before. He is perfect. "I do."

Lucien pauses for a moment before reaching into his pocket. I imagine that he's getting the rings, of course. I haven't been to many weddings, but I know that rings are used to show that two people are married.

I nearly gasp when I see the gleam of a dagger, but think twice of it. This part isn't supplied by my dreams – Vicente is feeding my mind something new, a possibility that I didn't even know existed. When I look up at him with a shocked face, he nods at me encouragingly, a comforting smile on his lips.

Well, this _is_ a dream, so I guess if we kill each other it wouldn't be permanent…still, I find it an unlikely possibility.

"This blade," Lucien says, holding it up, "Is the contract of marriage, consecrated before our Holy Matron, uniting these two souls together into the Void."

Vicente rubs the top of my palm and slowly turns it over, facing it upwards. Lucien approaches and slowly rests the sharp of the blade against my palm.

"Your blood represents the ink signing the contract. Zaris, repeat after me." I nod at him and he continues, my own voice echoing after his after each pause.

"I, Zarissis Rahallen, take Vicente Valtieri to be my husband, under the approval of the Night Mother, to admire and kill with him, share in his murders and triumphs, and to love him until the end of time." Right after the last word, a slight gasp of pain escapes my lips as Lucien sinks the tip of the blade into the soft flesh of my hand, drawing a straight line. The cut wells up with blood and pools in my hand.

Despite the dream, I still see Vicente's nostrils flare, his fangs prominent in his mouth now. However, he remains in control, his eyes still soft and loving towards me. He turns his palm over now.

Lucien does not repeat the words, as Vicente seems to know them and recites them on his own, three hundred years having given him experience in the world.

"I, Vicente Valtieri, take Zarissis Rahallen to be my wife, under the approval of Sithis, to admire and kill with her, share in her murders and triumphs, and to love her until the end of time." Lucien plunges the knife into Vicente's hand, creating a much deeper cut, revealing a hint of white bone beneath the blood.

Vicente takes my bloody hand and presses his to it, the blood mixing and dripping down our arms. I feel my breath hitch in my throat as a new feeling spreads into my arm, my hand suddenly much cooler than it was.

Lucien puts his hands around ours, our blood mixing on his black gloves. "Vicente and Zarissis have witnessed before the Void and our Dread Father, having pledged themselves together. They have cut and exchanged hands. By the authority as Speaker vested in me under our Night Mother, their blood has been bound together. I pronounce this couple married." Lucien nods quickly and backs away, releasing our hands.

Everyone in the benches jumps up and begins cheering. During the ceremony, I had actually forgotten anyone was there…it was just Vicente and I.

He releases my hand, and I turn it over to see the cut completely healed over, a pale, cold scar where his blood had touched me. He smiles at me and steps closer, running a thumb over my chin, smearing blood on my face.

Slowly, he leans in, taking my face in his hands, until I can feel his cold breath wave over my face. Vicente gently presses his lips to mine, and I find my stained hands wrapping around his back and pulling him into the kiss. His fangs scrape against my lips and my tongue and I temporarily taste metal before he's eagerly pushing into my mouth.

Someone clears their throat, and we break apart. Turning my head, I see a bright shock of blonde hair.

"Peroryn!" I squeal, breaking away from my new husband and throwing my arms around the boy's neck. He hugs me tightly, his voice gentle in my ear. "I have missed you, sister."

I pull away and scan his face. He looks exactly the same way I remember him. "It has been a long time." His button nose wrinkles up and he laughs.

"It has. I'm so glad I could be here. You look well. So much older than I remember." Peroryn runs a hand over my cheek before pinching it playfully.

Grabbing Vicente's hand, I pull him forward. "Vee, this is Peroryn, my brother." Lowering my voice, I turn to face him. "He died when I was seven – was mauled by a bear, and I've missed him ever since. He took care of me from the day I was born practically."

"Very nice to meet you," Vicente says, but his face is strained. Confused, I turn back to Peroryn just to feel my feet glue themselves to the ground, shock paralleling through my body.

Where his youthful face and smiling blue eyes were moments before, his skin had pulled over his face tightly, eyes darkened to the color of blood.

"You…you're…" My voice fails me, and I quickly clear my throat, fighting back the surprise and anger. "You didn't die! You were turned into a vampire? Why didn't you come to see me?" I sound harsher than intended, and Peroryn flinches back.

"Do you think I wanted to hide it from you? Zarissis, you know who you are. A Rahallen. You couldn't know and Mom and Dad wouldn't allow me to come back for that reason! Besides, this is my dream. You must have had some clue what happened to be if I'm here." He folds his arms over his chest and I sigh.

"You're right. I'm sorry." I step forward and hug him again.

He pulls away after a moment and kisses my nose lovingly. "You look beautiful though, Zarie. I'm so proud of you."

I blush and beam. "Thank you." He gives me a quick nod before stepping away to talk with the other family members, assassins and farmers alike.

I turn back to Vicente to find a smug smirk spread across his face. "Zarie? Vee? You're full of nicknames tonight."

"Well," I begin, running my hands down his chest, "Zarie was my nickname from when I was a child, and Vee is the nickname I decided you should have. I mean, I am your wife, after all."

He chortled. "Very true. Now, for dessert?"

I look around. "I don't see a cake." My voice is confused, and when I look back up at him, his eyes are gleaming mischievously. "Oh, you mean me…"

With one fell swoop, Vicente grabs me by my hips and hefts me over his shoulder, carrying me away from the reception of people and into the forest.

Had it been anyone else carrying me into the dark, I would have been terrified, but I love Vicente and trust him, therefore allowing myself to remain mostly limp.

After a minute, I'm lifted from his shoulder and placed gently in a patch of grass on top of Vicente's coat jacket, the night sky shining above, a thousand stars glittering like holes in the heavens.

We are all alone in a field, despite having been in a forest only a few minutes ago. Vicente takes a seat next to me, laying his head on the ground, lovely brown hair spread around his face. I lean back and he holds out an arm for me to rest my head on.

We lay together in silence for a long time, staring at the stars, my breathing slowing down with each passing breath. Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning signals start going off, telling me that _something_ is wrong.

"Vicente," I say after a moment, and he runs his hand through my hair. "Am I dying?"

"Yes." His answer is short, but I can hear an eternity of heartbreak behind it, as deep as the farthest reaches of the Void.

He pulls himself up to rest on an arm, looking down at me, his deep red eyes scanning over my face. I know he's monitoring how I'm doing. I wonder how I must look in reality, outside of this perfect dream world.

"You know," I say after a moment. "I didn't think I'd die young. I always wanted to get married and have a couple of children." I pause and gaze at him. "Did you ever have any children?"

"Once, a long time ago, when I was human. I cannot recall their names anymore. When you become a vampire, your human life…fades away over time." He doesn't sound disappointed, simply indifferent. I blink a couple times as a tight sadness seeps into my chest, making it hard to breath.

"You say that like you don't care. Is that what I'll become? A fading memory?" My voice is shaky, and I know he can hear the hurt behind it. Vicente looks down in shock and shakes his head.

"No. I love you as a vampire, not as a human. I will always remember you like it was yesterday. You're special." His cold fingers run through my hair over my scalp, and I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel his touch.

After a moment, I voice a thought that came to mind. "Vampires can't have children, can they?"

His fingers still in my hair, and I question whether or not I said something wrong. Finally, he resumes the pleasant strokes. "Females, definitely not. As for male vampires, I'm sure if it was possible I'd already have heard of it. We are undead."

He leans in and kisses my head. "Don't worry about that right now, though. Just relax."

I allow myself to rest, feeling my entire body slow down, melting into his cold, soothing touches in the damp night air.

* * *

Vicente's nose burned with the scent of death, Zarissis's delicate body fighting for breath. With one hand on her forehead continuing the illusion, he stroked her head with the other one. _Make her death painless_ , Lucien had asked of him.

The Speaker stood now in the doorway. It was clear that his friend was suffering by his firm set jaw and the way his hands clenched by his sides under his robes. Vicente could smell his anger and fear.

He blinked back bloody tears as the little red-head's mouth opened, gasping for air that wasn't coming. Her chest heaved and in her dreams she sighed happily, unaware of her imminent doom.

Lucien watched the vampire, his eyes locked on Zaris the entire time. He twitched every time she convulsed, running his hands so roughly through her hair that Lucien was sure he might rip some of it out.

The bastard who did this to her would _pay_ , he'd make sure of it. Lucien's nails were digging so hard into his palms that he was sure he might be close to drawing blood, probably not a good idea with the agitated vampire in the room.

The fury in his heart increased. He was losing a sister, a beautiful daughter of the Night Mother. She had so much potential, all of it gone to waste. Lucien clenched his teeth bitterly and watched Vicente fret.

The vampire's turned wide eyes back to Lucien, panic setting into his voice. "Please, do something!"

The Speaker only shook his head. "Sithis awaits her."

Dark red eyes blazed at Lucien, sharp fangs protruding from Vicente's mouth. He was seething with desperation and rage, both at Lucien and Zarissis's murderer. _"Get out!"_

Lucien narrowed his eyes. Any other time, he would have beaten the vampire senseless for speaking to his superior this way. However, even he felt pain at the loss of Zarissis, and gave a curt nod before exiting Vicente's room, leaving the vampire to watch his love die.

* * *

Vicente ran a hand over her cheek, no longer bothering to keep the dream up. Zarissis's mind had shut down. As she fell asleep in her dream, her mind slowly slipped away, leaving a comatose shell behind. She had minutes left, her little heart struggling to keep her body alive.

For the first time that night, an audible sob escaped his lips, the first time he had cried in ages. Vampires could turn off their emotions or leave them on, and the consequences of leaving them on created powerful emotions. Vicente had allowed himself to feel and _love_ Zarissis and now his mind was overloading with aching and grief.

 _Please Night Mother, oh Sithis please, don't take her!_ His soul chanted the prayer over and over, hoping that the Night Mother might pity him, pity _her_ , but she didn't and Zaris was slipping away.

 _Beat,_ pause _, beat_. Slower and slower, breathing ragged, body smelling of illness.

"No, Zarie, no." It was barely a whisper and faded to nothing, leaving Vicente sitting in silence with the roaring thunder of thoughts and anguish.

Pulling her into his arms, he held her for a while as she sucked in her last breath, heart slowly pattering away. She fell limp, soulless, devoid of anything that made her Zarissis.

Vicente kissed her on her head and laid her down on his coffin, lying beside her, committing her face to memory, trying to quell the agony. Her cheeks were still hot, and if it weren't for the stench of death, Vicente could almost imagine that she was only sleeping.

He leaned in and pressed his undead lips to her dead ones, a whisper on the tip of his tongue. "Good night, child." A bloody tear dripped off of his cheek and onto hers, staining her face red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not how the story ends.


	14. The Champion of Rahallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarissis meets the Champion of Rahallen.

My eyes burst open and I sit up from my position on Vicente's chest, heart fluttering madly. The dream around me begins to melt away, Vicente's face and skin turning to cobblestone and every shadow of the trees forming into a mess of colors.

 _Is this what dying is like?_ I look over my shoulder in all directions as the world twists and misshapes into something new. Slowly I see a torch form, the end bursting into blue flames, throwing blue light over old ruined stone walls and a dirty ground, both materializing beneath and around me from the chaos.

I instinctively grab for the Blade of Woe at my side – only to remember I'm wearing a wedding dress. However, my hand firmly grasps the hilt and I look down to see the black armor of the Dark Brotherhood clinging to my body tightly.

"Is this a dream or is it reality?" The words escape my lips, though I barely even realized I said them.

As if in response, the walls seem to speak back. "It is both." It takes me a moment to realize that it was not the stone talking, but a woman within its walls, standing a few feet away from me.

I jump back, startled by her appearance. In a few short seconds I'm on my feet, hand on my dagger. "Who are you?"

Her face is hidden by a white hooded cloak, although it appears pale blue in the torchlight. With one graceful sweep, she pushes back the cover.

Her orange hair is tied on her head in a bun, each stray wisp carefully contained in an ornate twist. Like mine, her eyes are green, although perhaps a shade darker. After a second of staring at her, I blink a few times.

She looks like me, but not. Her features are thinner and sharper, and she has an hardened expression, as though she spent many long winters in Skyrim, or perhaps experienced many harsh challenges in her life.

After a moment of watching me intently, she speaks. "I am the Champion of Rahallen, a loyal servant of Boethiah. It is my honorable duty to protect mortals from the…undead." Her face remains expressionless, apart from her already stern features.

My eyes widen involuntarily. I remember Vicente mentioning that he wasn't sure if there was a current champion…the Champion of Rahallen was said to bear the sword Shahote, meant to strike down any vampire in one blow.

As if understanding my thoughts, the Champion sighed, and reached under her cloak. I hear a _shlink_ , metal dragged across metal as she unsheathes the sword, holding it up in front of her face, both hands around the hilt. The sword glitters in the light and bright orange letters, burning like fire, light up over it, _SHAHOTE_ spelled down the blade.

She sheathes Shahote and looks down on me. "It indeed kills our greatest foes in one blow. It is our greatest weapon." She steps forward, and I flinch back as she runs her fingers over my braid. "Your hair is a gift from the Rahallen family itself. Children born from an impure bloodline do not have such a vibrant color, and bear blonde, black or brown hair. You should be proud."

I blink a few times. I always had thought it was odd I have red hair when my family were fair…but wait a minute… I suddenly pause, the thought blurting from my mouth. "My family has blonde hair though, and mine is red. Surely that isn't true."

Her face cruelly twists into a smile. "Don't be silly, of course your hair color is a gift from the Rahallens. It comes from the first, Theodane, and is a part of our eternal blessing. Helps us...weed out the bad apples, you could say." She suddenly steps forward, wrapping my hair around her hand and pulling me closer. I cry out in pain, and she grips my chin with her other hand.

"Your family isn't your real family. Related, yes, but their bloodline was infected with vampire blood." Her lips spread over her teeth in a threatening smile. "Oh, that's right sweetheart, vampires _are_ capable of having children. Perhaps you should have considered that before you laid with one." The Champion's eyes glimmer viciously and she releases my hair, shoving me roughly into the wall, the stone hard against my head. Her hand wraps around my neck, cutting off oxygen. I instinctively try to push her off, but she's as strong as Vicente, if not stronger, and doesn't budge.

"His scent is all over you. You are a traitor, and you will die a traitor's death one day. Our family's blessing may prevent anyone undead from killing you, but one day you will _burn_ for your treachery. It's so unfortunate that the fool's poison was extracted from the bodies of the dead, or you'd be rotting in the ground right now." She releases my neck and I fall to the ground, gasping for air, color rushing back into my cheeks. I glare furiously at her back as she turns away, running a hand over the sensitive skin around my throat.

"Still…your betrayal could be forgiven if you pledged your loyalty to the Rahallens and killed that filthy creature you've bound yourself to." She turns to face me again, smirking. "'Champion Zarissis Rahallen, bearer of Shahote'. Does have a ring to it, doesn't it?"

I shake my head, managing to choke a few words out. "My name is Zarissis Valtieri," I spit at her, and she scowls. "I will never join you, even if Boethiah herself came down from Oblivion. I am loyal to Sithis and the Night Mother only."

She rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically. "Assassins have short life spans. Such a pity, I was hoping to have a protégé." She looks down at me again. "It is your time to return to the land of the living…for now. The Rahallens will have their price in blood on you and your lover. What is said cannot be undone." She waves her hand over my face and the world begins to darken. My eyes roll back up into my head and my eyelids droop before I collapse onto the floor, the world around me slipping away into blackness.

* * *

Lucien had to pry Zarissis's body from Vicente's grasp. The vampire, although already dead, looked devoid of a soul. His eyes were glassed over and fixed on the still corpse lying on his coffin, her cheeks now gray.

The Speaker felt bitter and hollow inside. The Traitor had taken a promising assassin, a beautiful woman, and most importantly, his Sister. While he was typically okay with leaving corpses for others to deal with, Zarissis deserved respect in death. At night fall they planned to bury her beside the river running out of Cheydinhal, allowing nature to take her body as it is meant to.

The Speaker rested his hand on Vicente's shoulder, the vampire as still as the grave. "Come now, brother. She is with our Dread Father, now. There is no pain in the Void." When the man didn't move, Lucien sighed and pulled up a chair next to him.

"We're in this together." Lucien's brown eyes gazed intently at the vampire, who blinked slowly, still not acknowledging his presence. Comforting those in pain was not a specialty of Lucien's. While he spent most of his time being generally grumpy and bossing others around, he kept those he trusted close in his heart. He told himself he wanted Vicente to feel better so they could get back to business and move towards capturing the traitor – but really he wanted Vicente better because he cared about him. Lucien would never admit that to himself, though.

"I loved her," Vicente finally croaked out, his voice a scratchy whisper. A crimson tear streaked down his face and landed on his tunic, staining the gray material.

Lucien did a mental eyeroll, one he was certain Vicente wouldn't pick up in his state of mind. While his undead friend was easily swayed by romance and cuddling, Lucien believed only in love for his Dark Siblings and love for the Night Mother and Dread Father. The Speaker, however, was still a man, and while he tried to deny having love for any one person in particular, men have weak hearts, and his was as capable of falling for someone as his undead brother. Deep inside him was a well of regret and anger – fury toward the one who had taken the pretty red-head's life. Oh, what Lucien wouldn't give to slice the Traitor's throat and send him to the Void.

He stood up, tossing Vicente one last glance. "Come, brother. It is time. She deserves respect in death and we mustn't allow her body to decay out in the open anymore."

Vicente lifted pale hands to his head, fisting handfuls of thin, brown hair. "How could this have happened?" he whispered, eyes still locked on the corpse before him.

"The Traitor must have known where she was going, and they intercepted her on the way back." The Speaker's eyes narrowed. Only a few people would fit the description…

"Nobody in Cheydinhal would have lifted a hand to her." Vicente had lifted his eyes from Zarissis and was staring at the Speaker. "This was meant to look like an attack that came from someone within Cheydinhal. Does anyone else know about what happened?"

"The other Sanctuary members know she was attacked with a poison, but they do not know she is dead. I have not told them yet." It made sense…an attack on a Dark Brotherhood member, meant to look like it came from inside Lucien's own Sanctuary…

Vicente stood, his eyes still baring his grief, though for the moment he was temporarily distracted. He crossed to the table, leaning his palms on it, staring over the contracts he had yet to give out. The Speaker came around to the other side, looking them over.

"Do you think," the vampire's voice was low, a slight tone of disbelief and realization slipping into it, "that Zarissis's murder was meant to frame...you?"

Vicente watched the observation sink in. Lucien's expression steadily contorted into a dark scowl. "This is only the beginning Vicente, the very beginning of a terrible plan meant to cripple the Brotherhood." He glared at the contracts, and Vicente sighed.

"Nobody in Cheydinhal would want to frame you though."

Lucien grunted. "I _know,_ Brother. I know the loyal sons and daughters of our Dread Father within my own Sanctuary. What I _don't_ know is who could have possibly known where Zarissis was heading."

At the mention of her name, Vicente turned away from the table and bitterly walked back over to his coffin, sitting down and running a gentle thumb over her purple lips. His gaze lingered over her dark red eyelashes, strikingly vivid against such pale skin.

From behind him, still standing, Lucien shuffled through some of the contracts, although he wasn't truly reading any of them. "I just can't figure it out. It doesn't make sense. The Black Hand wouldn't have known who I was assigning my contract to, either...and that leaves no one."

Vicente trailed his thumb from her lip to her chin and down her neck. She looked a lot less mangled without the poison burns on her skin…

He stopped, his hand freezing on her collarbone. Quickly, he tore the shirt she was wearing, revealing clean skin down to her breasts, the wound completely gone, no evidence of an attack.

The Speaker lifted his head upon hearing the sound of fabric being torn, a slightly disturbed expression crossing his face. "Brother, I understand you're dead yourself, but I _really_ don't think Zarissis would like her corpse to be used in such a way…"

Vicente ignored Lucien's crude suggestion, instead running his fingers over the unscarred skin. "Lucien, come here, look at this." He lifted his eyes back to her face, where color began to seep into her cheeks.

The Speaker was by his side in a moment, quickly running a gloved hand over the spot where she had been pierced by an arrow. Purple lips began to turn red, fingers gaining color again. His mouth was open in a state of shock. _The dead don't come back to life…that is impossible._

* * *

Everything seems distant and wrong. There are voices, but I can't understand them, and my entire body seems to tingle like my limbs have gone to sleep. I feel like I'm underwater and fighting to get through the murky darkness to the surface, just to break through the water and take a deep…

At that moment, my parched lips open, and a scratchy breath of cold air rushes into my lungs, tickling my unused throat. My body convulses as I cough, my eyes still unwilling to open.

Someone's hand reaches under my neck, holding my head up. They are talking, but the words are still muffled to my ears and sound odd. Something cold presses against my lips and liquid flows into my mouth. I choke it down and greedily suck more, allowing the liquid to hydrate my body.

Slowly, the voices begin to become audible. "How is this possible?" Someone asks.

After a long pause, a newer voice, closer to me, pipes up. "The only explanation I can find would come from her heritage. She's descended from the Rahallens, a vampire slaying family originating in High Rock. They were gifted from Boethiah to survive any kind of death or injury from unnatural and undead sources. The only way she could be alive now is if the poison the traitor used had ingredients from the dead." I try to lift my hand to my face, but find myself incapable of moving it.

"And you only thought to tell me this _now_?" The second voice sounds incredibly annoyed, yet somewhat relieved. "So she's alive then? Why isn't she moving?"

"Her heartbeat is still slow. I assume her body is still trying to recover from the attack. She can hear us, but how much she's capable of comprehending I'm unsure of." Something about the voices sounds familiar, like I've heard them before, and my mind struggles to grasp whatever memory I've forgotten. It's just beyond my reach, I can tell.

A hand rubs over my head, oddly cold. "It's okay, Zaris, you're going to be okay." With one burst of clarity, I recognize the voice and his thick High Rock accent. I struggle against my own body, fighting for the control I know I'm capable of.

The weight lifts from my eyelids, and I feel the tingling begin to subside. With great difficulty, I slowly open my eyes.

The room has been dimmed down, but I still shrink back and squint against the light. Vicente chuckles next to me, his hand still holding my head up. Lucien stands a few paces away from his coffin looking down at me. Although he looks annoyed, I see a bit of relief etched into the lines on his face.

"Welcome back." His voice is soft, and I manage to smile, feeling stronger by the minute.

In the corner, Lucien grunts. "Did you see the traitor who shot you?"

I shake my head, my voice finally coming back. "No, they shot me from the trees while I was riding Dusty. I only managed to get so far before I fell off my horse."

Lucien's eyes dart to Vicente. "That's when I found her. The traitor must have known I'd be riding that way." He walks over and rests a hand on my forehead, covering my eyes slightly. I feel warmth pass over me, healing magic sinking into my bones. "Rest now, Sister. You need your strength."

The weight of his hand leaves, and he walks over to the door before turning back to Vicente. "Allow her to sleep. I will tell the family she's doing well. It is critical we get her back onto contracts immediately. The last thing we need is the Black Hand looking toward this Sanctuary for the Traitor." He swishes out of the room, closing the door harshly behind him.

"Vicente," I say at last, the tone of my voice pulling him out of his affectionate state of mind. "When I…died, I saw the Champion of Rahallen. She's related to me, I think."

He freezes slightly, eyes locked on me. "Did you speak to her?"

At once I regret mentioning it. I don't want to tell him what she had said – that she asked me to kill him, that I could be the Champion, that both of us would die one day, that vampires could have children…

It just didn't seem like the right time to mention it. Instead, the lie slips off my tongue easily. "No, not really." It is very clear that Vicente hears the change in heartbeat, his eyes flicking between mine. He narrows his lips but doesn't say anything, his vampire senses picking up the little fib easily.

After a moment, he finally speaks. "You've gone through quite an ordeal. You should get some rest." He leans forward and kisses my lips.

I know I probably do need the rest, but I can't help but feel like I'm being dismissed. "I love you," I murmur quietly, a smile finally passing my lips.

Vicente grins back at me, showing fangs. "I love you."

* * *

A couple days later, I'm back on my feet and doing well. Lucien had wanted to shove me back into the normal schedule, but Vicente fought for a few days of rest, given that I had died. Word quickly spread around the Sanctuary about my recovery, and since then I have been bored out of my mind with nothing to do, no throats to gut, no blood to spill.

I sit in the alchemy room, reading _the Wolf Queen_. Antoinetta wiggled her way into making dinner and refused to allow anyone else to have a say. She has this certain fondness for garlic…and by 'fondness', I mean putting garlic into _everything_. The entire Sanctuary stinks of garlic by the time she's done, and her food is infested with it. Meals aren't even recognizable anymore; it might as well all be garlic soup, because it certainly tastes like it.

Unfortunately, Vicente has a strong allergy to garlic. As soon as he heard Antoinetta was cooking, he began storming through the Sanctuary swearing under his breath. He ended up stomping into his chambers and slamming the door, where he's been locked up ever since. He won't even let me in.

Sure enough, the scent already begins drifting under the door of the alchemy room. In the main hall, I hear some muffled shouting.

"For Sithis's sake, Antoinetta? Couldn't you do without the garlic just this _once_? You know how Vicente gets, too." Tel's voice rises to my ears, sounding very annoyed. There is no response, which is unusual for Antoinetta, but I figure she's probably giving everyone the silent treatment while she mutates food in the kitchen.

Footsteps near the alchemy door, and I brace my nose for the torture that is to come. Sure enough, the door opens and I gag as my nostrils are infested with the strong scent of garlic.

Tel stands there, hand over her face, a sad attempt to dull the overwhelming odor. "Ocheeva is back from her contract and requests your presence in her chambers." I nod my head, and the Bosmer leaves the room, likely to retreat to a deeper part of the Sanctuary for relief.

Ocheeva left the day I was revived. She hadn't had a chance to reward me for my successes on my last contract, which is why I suppose I was summoned.

I make my way to her room. Down the hall of the tunnel, the stench had diluted, but I figure Vicente must still be able to smell it by the occasional thump and shouted curse word that was audible from his room.

I knock twice on the aged door, waited patiently. A few moments later I hear something being shuffled around, followed by a strained voice. "Come in!"

I enter Ocheeva's room, the Argonian standing at her bed. Her Dark Brotherhood armor lies over top of the quilt, a few blood stains sunken into the dark material. She smiles when she sees me, smoothing out the simple shirt and pants she must have changed into when she got back.

She jumps forward and embraces me. "The Night Mother has smiled upon you Sister!" After a long hug, I'm released, and she stands there grinning. "And you infiltrated Fort Sutch, remained undetected, and replaced the medicine with the poison I provided. You are truly a master of shadow!"

The corners of my eyes crinkle up as I beam at her. "Thank you! How did your contract go?"

"I was sent to end an unfaithful husband, quite creatively, actually. It was most entertaining. Oh, the way he screamed…" Her raspy voice trails off. Although Argonians don't typically show too many facial expressions, she appears to have quite the dreamy look in her eyes. After a moment she glances back at me. "Ah yes, your reward."

Ocheeva walks over to her desk, reaching into a bag. She pulls out an enchanted coin purse, one of the Dark Brotherhood's specialties - they can hold an endless amount of gold and still fit into the palm of your hand – and a long burgundy dress. I blink at her a few times as she hands the coin purse over before holding the dress up.

"It is enchanted with personality and speech craft, and will help you blend in with even the proudest Altmers. Which brings me to your next contract," she pauses and grins toothily, looking quite excited. "Do you like parties? Because you've been invited to one. Of course, you'll be killing all the other guests."

"I've never been to a party…but I would love to attend one." I smile maliciously at her and she nods.

"You need to go to the city of Skingrad, to the large house known as Summitmist Manor. There you will meet up with five very unlucky guests. In order to receive your bonus, you must kill each guest secretly, one by one. If anyone sees you committing murder, the bonus is forfeit." She shuffles through a pile of contracts, pulling out the invitation. "The guests believe there is a chest of gold hidden in the house, and have agreed to be locked inside until one of them finds it. In fact, the guests believe the key to the manor is inside the chest, and only by satisfying their greed will they be allowed to leave."

After that, she pauses and laughs. "Poor fools. There is, of course, no chest of gold. The guests will find no key. After you arrive, the doors will be locked behind you, as everyone expects. When all the guests lie dead, you will be free to leave. When you go, see the doorman at Summitmist Manor. He will explain the rest." Ocheeva hands me the burgundy dress and the invitation, which is my pass to get in.

"This sounds incredibly exciting. Thank you, Ocheeva. They won't suspect a thing." My nerves tingle with the anticipation of frightening the guests to death as each is killed, one by one.

She pats my shoulder. "Now, before you go and get ready, I believe Vicente wanted to speak to you. Of course, even I'd be a little hesitant to talk to him when he's grumpy. Off you go now, may the Night Mother guide you." She nods at me and I take this as my queue that she needs some time alone. I exit her chambers, and after a brief moment of hesitation, decide to pop in on my angry vampire.

His room is quiet when I approach the door, no light shining from beneath it. Either he is napping, or he has a headache, as those are the times when he keeps it dark. I lift my hand to knock, but decide the better of it. I could always come back later…

I never get to finish that thought, as at that moment the door flies open, a pale hand seizes the front of my shirt, and I'm tossed into the dark as the door bangs closed.

Before I fall over or trip on something, I'm shoved against the wall, a fanged mouth capturing mine with ferocity. I gasp out as teeth sink into my lips, arms entwining around my waist and pulling me close.

After several minutes of passionate kissing and the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, Vicente finally puts me down and lets me breathe.

"Did you miss me?" I tease, unable to see his face in the dark but feeling him close to me.

He chuckles. "I actually did want to speak to you. I heard you have a contract in Skingrad, is that right?"

I nod my head, knowing he can see me much better than I can see him.

"I normally wouldn't ask you to do this, but I'm afraid I've been rather busy. The Count of Skingrad, Janus Hassildor – you may have heard about him – has asked me to assist him with some personal business. Unfortunately, I cannot spare the time to visit, so while you're there, would you mind stopping into the castle to speak with him?"

I've never actually been to Skingrad nor heard anything about the Count; however, I trust in Vicente's judgment. "I'd be willing to help."

I hear a relieved smile enter his voice. "Excellent! I will send forewarning of your arrival. The Count is very _reclusive_ , and doesn't like strangers." There is something in his tone that suggests he's not telling me everything, but he doesn't offer any further details.

"As for your other assignment, the key to successfully completing this contract is effectively blending in with the other guests. So for Sithis' sake, do not wear your hood..." He sounds exasperated, and I wonder if perhaps the other Sanctuary members sometimes have difficulties with mixing with the locals.

"I wasn't planning on it. I have this dress Ocheeva rewarded to me for my last contract, said it would do nicely." The burgundy garment got crushed when Vicente assaulted me. I feel his hands lift it off my arm and smooth it.

"Good, this will do. Good luck." He places the dress back on my arm and kisses my forehead, holding my face in his hands. "Spill some blood for me, dearest Sister."

I smile back, feeling anticipation brewing in my stomach. "Oh, I certainly will."

After a moment of quiet tension between us, my contract rewards are pulled from my arms and tossed on the ground. Vicente presses me back into the wall, pinning my arms above my head.

I giggle as a dangerous tone enters his voice. "Now where were we?"

I have several hours to spare. I don't need to go to Skingrad quite _yet._


	15. The Count of Skingrad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zaris heads to Skingrad to speak with a grumpy Count and prepare for her next contract.

I never imagined that riding to Skingrad would be so painful. Vicente's discovery that I could not be turned into a vampire or killed by the undead had resulted in a night full of bite marks, aggressive sex, and bloodletting, meaning my body was incredibly sore, and every bump in the road while riding Dusty results in a light gasp.

Even _worse_ , the healing bite marks on my legs are beginning to itch massively, but I avoid lifting up my dress to my undergarments to scratch them.

After a few hours, I pass into the gates of Skingrad. Unlike Cheydinhal, which was filled with green grass and pretty brick houses, this city wasn't what I was expecting.

The houses sit closely together in a far more urban setting, tall buildings towering over the streets. The walls of all the shops and homes are made of gray stone, and vivid green ivy climbs their sides, splashing color into the clean streets.

Although the city is bigger than Cheydinhal, the roads and homes are not dirty. It is clear that the Count upkeeps his county and tends to the needs of the people.

Sliding off Dusty's back, I hold the horse's reins as I step forward to talk to a city guard.

"Good morning, might you be able to point me in the direction of the Castle?" I flash him my sweetest smile, running a hand over the orange braid over my shoulder.

The guard beams at me, his eyes twinkling. "Well hello there, aren't you a lovely sight this morning? The Castle of Skingrad is just outside the city gate, to the right." He pauses for a moment, shaking his head. "Although you best be warned, the Count is not often welcoming to visitors."

"So I've heard. Thank you!" I wave to him, and saunter off, Dusty behind me.

* * *

When the guard said Castle Skingrad was right outside the city gate, what he failed to mention was that the Castle was sitting away from the city on its own mountain top with a large stone bridge leading to it. I don't know how I missed it riding up, but it is clear that the Count likes grandeur. I tie Dusty to a nearby tree, sensing that horses might not be welcome within the castle walls.

I walk along the bridge, my burgundy dress blowing in the gentle breeze, which causes me to pull the velvet gray cloak Vicente lent to me closer around my body. After a few minutes, I reach the end of the road, and push open a large wooden door into the castle courtyard.

Honestly, I'm a bit surprised there are no guards at the courtyard doors, but then perhaps the Count has nothing to worry about as far as crime goes. The courtyard is very small, and one section has stairs leading to a covered part of the yard, however I continue straight to the Castle.

The main hall has a set of stairs going up to the next floor on one side, and torches light the room with orange light, flickering over the ancient cobblestone walls. On my right is a large door leading to somewhere, and large fire sconces light the back of the room. The Castle feels older than even the Sanctuary, and is very quiet.

My entrance is quickly noticed by an Argonian with rich emerald scales, who rushes over to me.

"Greetings. I'm Hal-Lluirz, the head stewardess. Do you have any business at Castle Skingrad?" She sounds like an impatient woman, but I suppose that one would have to be when dealing with nobility on a constant basis.

I smooth out my dress on the front. "I'm here to see the Count, he knows I'm coming." With some dignity I try to hold myself higher. After all, I'm sure the Count deals with many higher classed nobles than myself, and I wouldn't want to embarrass my Family.

"Ah yes, he has been expecting you…although, not so early. Could you possibly come back later this evening?" Her voice trails off, as though there is something she's not telling me. I run over the details of the contract in my head. The party wasn't until tomorrow night, so I have time to attend to this business.

"Yes, what time shall I return?"

"At nightfall. The Count is a very busy man, and has other matters to attend to." Her voice is hurried, and I sense she wants me to leave as soon as possible.

I nod to her. "Very well, I will be back tonight." She sees me to the door, and I leave. Something seems odd about her behavior. What is Vicente not telling me? After all, he said the Count is very reclusive, so he couldn't be that busy, right?

Oh well, nightfall it is.

* * *

I decide to gather some healing herbs and tend to my puncture wounds during my spare time, after which I enter the city to do some sight-seeing.

Skingrad really is quite beautiful and filled with history, and the people bustling around on the streets are jovial and talkative. Everyone I encounter wishes me a good day coupled with a smile.

I figure that if I'm going to wander around Skingrad, I might as well have a purpose. I head off for the northern part of the city after talking to a guard, who is able to direct me to the only alchemist in the entire town.

All Things Alchemical is open when I step in. Immediately, my nose is accosted with the scent herbs of every kind. Bustling shelves of regents line the walls, and I pick out a Dunmer woman wearing fine black and burgundy robes behind the counter.

She looks up from labeling potions. "Hello there! I am Falanu, House Hlaalu." She pauses for a moment, smiling faintly. "Not like that matters here, though."

I step up to the counter, tapping my fingers against the wood. "Good day! Might you have an invisibility potion in stock?" After a moment I realize how odd it must sound for someone to just walk into a shop and ask for one of those, so with a dramatic flair, I press my hand against my chest and force tears into my eyes. "You…you see, it's my husband. I think…I think he's cheating on me. I'm determined to catch him in the act." I blink my eyes before rubbing them with the back of my hand. "I want the strongest potion you have."

The act works and the Dunmer woman immediately buys into it, frowning slightly. "Oh! I have just the thing…" She darts off to a shelf behind the counter, rummaging through it. I hear the clinking of glass against glass before she reappears with a tiny bottle the size of her palm. The liquid inside is a cloudy blue.

"This is the strongest invisibility potion I can mix. A single drop will render you invisible for a minute. Although, such a strong potion comes at a great price…" Falanu's eyes flick up and down me, as if judging whether or not I have the coin to buy.

I reach into my bag and pull out a coin purse, tossing it on the counter. The Dunmer's eyes light up and she hands the potion to me. "I wish you best of luck with your marital problems."

I make sure the glass cork is secured before I place it in a safe place in my bag and smile at her. "Have a great evening."

She smiles before jumping suddenly. "Wait…by the way…do you happen to know what the fine is here in Cyrodiil for necrophilia? Just asking."

At her question I'm struck speechless and it takes several moments of silent blinking to comprehend what she just said. "Is this the _first_ offense?" I may associate with murders, vampires, and psychopathic Speakers every day, but I'm happy to say I haven't aligned myself with necrophiles.

"Let's assume no."

I suppose I technically _can't_ judge since I do make love to one of the undead every night. "Then it's at least five hundred gold, I think."

"Oh!" She smiles brightly. "That's _nothing_ compared to Morrowind! Thank you so much! Good luck."

I leave the shop as quickly as is politely possible, not willing to linger any more than is absolutely necessary.

* * *

As it turns out, scoping out Summitmist Manor was uneventful, considering it was just one large house shoved between all of the other buildings and looked completely ordinary from the outside.

Regardless, I wait until nightfall before venturing back to the Count's castle again.

The main hall is dead silent when I enter, and it seems all the staff are sleeping. However, Hal-Lluirz, the Count's stewardess, is immediately aware of my arrival as she bursts through a nearby door.

"Good, good, you're right on time. Follow me. The Count wishes to have an audience with you in his private quarters."

I follow her up the grand stair case and into a hallway. The door to the Count's room is made of a very old oak tree, and has a brass knocker on it. She grabs the knocker and does one short, quiet warning thud before opening the door and holding it for me.

The Count's room is made entirely of rich, burgundy velvet and cherry wood, and is lit by candles and the soft cracking of a fireplace. Hal-Lluirz takes her leave, closing the door behind her, leaving me alone in the castle room.

"Welcome, Zarissis. Vicente sent word that you were coming." Count Hassildor's voice travels to me from near the window, where he stands next to a table. Glancing over to him, I almost gasp.

See, the _thing_ that Vicente failed to mention entirely is that Count Janus Hassildor is not an ordinary _man_. In fact, he's hardly a man at all.

He watches me through piercing red eyes before popping open a bottle of what I sure hope is wine and not his dinner.

"You look shocked. I suppose Vicente neglected to mention my condition?" He smirks and smoothes back black hair, which is streaked with white. He is not nearly as gaunt as Vicente, and instead looks much more rounded out and youthful. I'm not sure if he's an ancient vampire, but I can't tell if he was an older or younger man when he was turned.

I quickly recover and walk over to the table, my normal composition relaxing. His vampiric state is not concerning for me; I was just simply not expecting it.

"I suppose it was not his place to mention it; however, it's perfectly fine." I smile at him in the dark, knowing he can see me far better than I can see him.

Janus pulls out the chair in front of him. "Please, sit down and have a drink with me."

Normally, I'd be very wary of this situation…however, I happen to trust Vicente's judgment a great deal, and the only other man he calls a friend is Lucien Lachance; therefore, the Count must be somewhat trustworthy.

I sit into the chair and Count Hassildor pushes it in before leaning over my shoulder and pouring some wine into the cup, and then his own. He takes a seat across from me.

"I was hoping for Vicente's company, but he told me you were better suited." Hassildor rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. "The real truth is just that the old man didn't feel like being social."

"I wish to tell you a story, so that you might understand why I trust you with my secrets." His face is completely serious now, and I lift up the goblet of wine to my lips as I watch him. "Would you care to listen?"

I nod silently and take a sip. Wine has always been unpleasant for me, but this wine is quite sweet, and I'm tempted to keep drinking. However, that would look unprofessional and would fare badly on the Dark Brotherhood…and Vicente.

"More than fifty years ago, my wife Rona and I were both turned into vampires. While I came to embrace the changes in myself, she did not." His eyes drop to the table, and regret passes over his face. "She hated what she had become, and refused to feed to keep herself healthy. She eventually slipped into a coma from which she has not awoken."

Janus Hassildor pauses and takes a deep breath, clearly trying to find the strength to continue. "My trusted servants have cared for her all this time, but I wish for her to…to at last find peace." His voice breaks, and I watch the muscles in his jaw tighten and release as he clenches down. "I seek a cure for vampirism for her, and you are to help me. I have researched what I can, but acquiring the cure is beyond my grasp. I cannot risk drawing too much attention to myself."

"So I ask that you take up the search on my behalf. If you are successful, which Vicente assures me you will be, I will reward you in whatever way I can. Will you aid me?"

"I will do whatever I can." I lift the glass to my lips again.

"Very good. What little I have discovered points to the witches of Glenmoril. In the past, they have been capable of creating a cure. I have searched for these witches throughout Cyrodiil, but no covens still exist within its borders. There may be…one left. I have unconfirmed reports of a woman seen near the Corbolo river who fits the description of these witches."

I nod my head. "And you wish for me to seek her out and see if she can help?"

He smiles faintly, white fangs flashing. "Correct. She lives somewhere along the river, east of the Imperial City and south of Cheydinhal."

I glance out the window at the moon, waning in the sky. "Do you have a specific time that this needs to be done? I have other business I must attend to, but I will seek her out afterwards."

I expected Count Hassildor to scowl or flinch at _other business_ , but he doesn't even acknowledge it. For a nobleman, he seems very calm and unscathed about making deals and befriending members of the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps his view on life and death is similar to ours, given his condition. I wonder how he grew to know and befriend Vicente Valtieri.

"Whenever possible. Should you succeed, return and tell my stewardess." He's a businessman at heart, and looks at me very seriously as though he's assessing me.

I lift the wine goblet to my lips and take a very large drink, feeling heat rush into my cheeks. After a moment, I speak again.

"You have my word, it will be done."

Count Hassildor smiles a little, fangs peeping out from under his lips. Finally, after a moment of completely silence, he smirks at me like he knows a secret I don't.

"I've heard a lot about you, Zarissis. It seems you always become the topic of conversation when Vicente is around."

I swallow hard, my face flushing bright red. "Is that so?" I say, attempting to sound nonchalant, but it is difficult to fool a vampire. Hassildor hears the interest in my voice and taps his fingers against the table.

"Well of course, silly child. 'A promising assassin who also tastes quite nice', I believe he said." The Count smiles to himself and chuckles like he has a personal joke I don't quite understand. After a moment, he returns to looking serious. "I daresay he loves you."

I cover my mouth with my hand, an involuntary reaction to hide the girly smile that passes over my face. "I know he does." I can't help how my entire face and neck start burning, although not with shame, but rather with anxiety and excitement. It never fails to make me giddy to know that a three-hundred year old vampire loves me.

"Also," Janus begins, tapping his chin. "Vicente wanted me to pass along something to you. He said to tell you that he'll always be there, even when the road seems hopeless and you feel abandoned and alone."

I'm not sure why, but the words make the hair on the back of my neck rise. Why would he pass along something so ominous to Janus rather than telling me himself? I'll be home in just a few days.

Janus just shakes his head and mutters under his breath. "Leave it to a vampire to come up with something dark and vague to confess his dedication." Out of the corner of my vision, I witness another dramatic eye roll.

I would stop to be amused about the Count's sassy behavior if I wasn't somewhat disturbed by Vicente's message. Hopeless? Abandoned and alone? What was the meaning of this?

I shake my head, realizing that while I stopped to think, Count Hassildor launched into the story of how he met Rona, starting with something about the Imperial Army, I think.

I nod in all the right places, but I just can't shake the feeling that something very bad is coming.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As of this chapter, I am now participating in Nanowrimo with the rest of this fic, so chapter updates should officially be coming out multiple times a week. If I go more than two days without updating, start sending me angry mail telling me to put my butt into gear ;D Also, thank you for all the reviews. Stay fabulous!**


	16. The Targets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Zarissis gets to know the guests of Summitmist Manor and plan their murders.

The sky over Skingrad thunders as rain begins to pour onto the roof tops.I arrive at Summitmist Manor, the stone mansion looming overhead. A white-haired doorman waits patiently for me at the entrance, his eyes inspecting me as I near. I step under the covered doorstep to take refuge from the rain and hand him my invitation. The paper tears when he pulls it open, and I notice that it is not an invitation at all, but a piece of paper with a black hand print inked onto it. Magic pricks at his finger tips and engulfs the paper in flames, burning it to a fine ask. He looks back up at me and smiles.

"So, the last guest finally arrives. I'll tell you what I told all the others. You go in. I lock the door. You don't come out 'till it's over." No non-sense, straight to the point. He reminds me a bit of Gogron, who is never the type to beat around the bush.

"Now I'll tell you what I didn't tell everyone else. We have the same Mother, you and I. And she wants you to have this. It's the key to the house." He holds his hand out, a large golden key sitting within his gloved palm. Next to his purple suit, the black gloves are far out of place, although they remind me of the gloves Lucien always wears. I haven't seen the Speaker in quite some time, but I must admit I do miss him. His maniac ways have grown upon me.

I also find it somewhat comforting to meet a Brother before I enter to do my contract. It is the Night Mother's way of reassuring me of her presence, and I feel stronger for it. I slip the key into my purse and he continues.

"Well I guess someone else has already told you the other details. Kill all the guests, then leave. You better get in there, it's time to mingle." He reaches out with the intent to slap me on the back as a friendly gesture, but thinks twice and withdraws. "Go on, socialize with those fine people…then shove a knife into their throats when they aren't looking!" He chuckles and pulls open the door to me, and I bid him good bye.

The door behind me locks, and I'm quickly accosted by an older woman in a green silk top with a wrinkly face.

"The sixth guest has finally arrived! Well, it's about time! Do you know how long we've been waiting? It seems like an age!" She seems far too excited for her own good, but I suppose anyone would if they thought they were going to find treasure and live to talk about it.

It seems I'm standing in a greeting hall, rich rugs covering the oak floors and expensive tapestries hanging on the walls above sofas and bookshelves. At the other end of the room are two staircases heading up, and to the right of me, an Imperial and a Dunmer stand close together, talking in hushed tones. Every now and then the Dark Elf woman giggles, looking up at the Imperial man with moon-sized eyes. Their body language suggests that both might like each other, which is an interesting twist to this little party. I don't get to observe them for much longer as I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the old woman's nagging voice.

"Whoever invited us here must at least know us, don't you think? In any event, we're all stuck here together, so we might as well get acquainted. The rest of us have already traded introductions. I'm Matilde Petit. The others are Nels the Naughty, Neville, Dovesi Dran and Primo Antonius. Now who might you be? Please, tell us a little about yourself."

Matilde Petit sounds like a Breton name, and therefore I wouldn't put it past her to know some magic. Know thy enemy, as they say. The last thing I want is to get a firebolt in my back.

"I'm Zaris," I begin, forging a story in my head to build her trust. "I'm here because…" My voice trails off, and I whimper quietly. "My husband…he was killed in a tragic accident and left me all alone with a baby. She's in the hospital and she's so sick..." I sniff, putting a hand over my face while I pretend to cry. "I need the money or she could die." I don't feel bad about using my real first name, as I plan to kill them, and I wouldn't want to use a fake name and then forget to respond to it. That'd be very curious and would attract unwanted suspicion.

The old woman's eyes get large, and she looks conflicted. "Oh you poor dear! Well, this makes things difficult for me. I want to find the gold as much as anyone, but you need it so much more than I do for your poor baby."

Her compassion seems incredibly false, and I can't help but be annoyed that she's attempting to win over my favor for her own greed.

"It's…it's alright. What can you tell me about yourself?" I sniff and rub the false tears pricking at my eyes before managing a small smile. "You really are quite pretty. Such elegance would only come from a high Breton family." It was a lie, of course, but she doesn't need to know that. My only goal is to make her like me. Personally, I find her quite revolting.

However, compliment does the trick. Matilde beams, her brown eyes sparkling with pride. "Oh thank you my dear, you're quite right. I'll have you know the Petits are one of High Rocks oldest and most respected families."

I highly doubt the truth of that statement. A truly high-class, wealthy woman wouldn't be so eager to find a chest full of gold. "What can you tell me about the other guests?"

"Well, there's Dovesi Dran. She seems rather floozy. But to be perfectly honest I've never trusted their kind – those gray-skinned elves, I mean. She's been eying young Primo Antonius this whole time, probably smells his wealth." She folds her arms across her chest proudly, and I force away a scowl that wants to form. Out of everyone in the room, I think I'll enjoy killing her most. Perhaps it is the way I was raised, but I cannot see how anyone could hold a specific grudge against a race of people. It should be the character of the person and not their cultural background that is judged. Then again, I kill people for a living, so I suppose I have a rather terrible character.

"I must go introduce myself to the other guests. Good luck." I smile sweetly, but it doesn't reach my eyes. Turning on my heel, I tread over to where the Imperial and the Dunmer girl are standing by the far wall locked in conversation. I assume the woman is Dovesi Dran, judging by the little smile that passes her lips every time she looks at him.

The blonde Imperial looks up when I get near. "It's about time you showed up. People of my station are not accustomed to waiting." His eyes scan up and down, accessing my fortune, probably. This is a man who can take one look at a person and know their class. "I am Primo Antonius. It's a regal name from a rather regal family. Indeed, my father owns more property than the East Empire company!"

The Dunmer woman turns to me, smiling pleasantly. "I'm Dovesi Dran, very pleased to meet you. Now that you're here, all of us can look in earnest for the gold!" Her face is as delicate as a porcelain doll, and I can see why a man like Primo would be so engaged in speaking to her.

"I'm Zaris," I add in. I don't understand why Primo is here for a little chest of gold if he's as wealthy as he says. Both Matilde and Dovesi seem to have an actual need for it, but he seems to think of it as a game or a way to pass time.

After a second of awkward silence, Primo finally speaks again. "On that note, I'm going to go look around." He makes his way toward the other side of the room without even so much as excusing himself, and enters a door that likely leads to the basement.

When I look back toward Dovesi, she has a dreamy look on her face. "Oh, he's very handsome…but don't tell him I said that!" Her little grey-blue lip is caught between pearly teeth as she chews on it insecurely.

"Think so? I could always ask him about you, see what he thinks. I can be discreet." I flash a smile at her. Making the members of the party like me is a priority while I am here, but I also need to learn about each of my targets.

"But what if he suspects it is me asking? Or what if he finds me completely revolting?"

"He won't find you completely revolting. Didn't you see how you had his complete attention before I walked over?"

She just shakes her head. "It is pretty obvious that Primo comes from a wealthy family, he said so himself. He would never be interested in a girl like me, I'm afraid."

I frown. "I'm going to go introduce myself to the other guests." I decide that when I go to talk to him, I'll ask about her anyways. If there is a possible romance budding, then I can use it for my advantage.

I head up the stairs to the top floor, where the area opens into a sitting room lined with paintings and bookshelves, including an open section of the floor in one corner that is railed where you can look down on the second floor. A Redguard leans against the rail, glaring intently at something just out of eyeshot.

When I near, he turns to look at me, scowling foully at me. "Ah, yes, the sixth guest. I'm Neville. It's…" He pauses, putting sarcastic emphasis on his next word. " _nice_ to make your acquaintance."

Neville is clearly the sour type, which will make killing him all the more fun. "I'm Zarissis."

He looks surprised, brow furrowing. "You're a Breton, right? Zarissis is a Redguard name."

The truth is that my mother simply liked naming her children unusually, but instead I opt to lie. "My mother lived in Hammerfell for some time before she came to Cyrodiil and had me."

"I've never actually been to Hammerfell. I was born here in Cyrodiil. My family has been in the Legion for three generations." He falls silent, his eyes observing me closely. Given that he's a soldier, he's probably trying to judge my character. Luckily, assassins are masters of disguise, so I doubt he'll find what he is looking for in my face.

I turn my head to the side and see the person whom he was glaring intently at moments before, standing in the kitchen with a bottle in his hand. Seeing my interest, Neville speaks again.

"That's Nels the Naughty. I think that barbarian will do anything to get his hands on the chest of gold. His kind are greedy and vicious, all of them."

Neville's voice is layered with spite, but I don't find his accusation justified. The man across the room is drinking some mead, as is Nordic custom, but he doesn't seem greedy or even threatening…just kind of sad. He gazes out of the manor window with a distant, painful look on his face, as though he is reliving bad memories.

The Redguard solder shakes his head. "Trust me, I know about Nords. I was stationed at Fort Frostmoth for a few years, on the isle of Solstheim. Those Nords are a bunch of animal-worshipping savages. They're all the same, full of mead and something to prove. We lost a lot of good men up there." He frowns, still looking angry. "A lot of good men…"

I don't say anything, just fall silent. Neville begins to look annoyed with my presence, but I ignore him and decide to inquire on another guest. "What can you tell me about Primo?"

Neville snorts rudely. "He's young, rich and handsome. That's way out of your league, tramp."

At his words my blood turns to ice and my fingers itch for the dagger hidden up the sleeve on my burgundy dress. Why, that little _shit_. A fire rages in my heart and I try to keep my gaze calm.

I can practically hear Lucien's deep voice in my head. _Do not make any rash decisions out of anger._

Killing him too soon could reveal my identity, especially for anyone who might have overheard. I know if I attacked how, I'd give my secret away and disappoint the family, Vicente, and my Speaker. I will not bring dishonor on my Family. I opt to walk away, making a path over to the lonely Nord by the window. When I get close, he smiles, but the grin doesn't reach his eyes.

"I'm Nels the Naughty, but don't let the name fool you, I'm not really naughty. Anyway, I couldn't help but overhear that piece of Legion trash call you a tramp."

I frown. "I'm trying not to let it bother me." It's a true statement, but that's not going to stop me from slicing off the family jewel's when I kill him. The best part about being an assassin is that I _always_ get revenge.

"You're smarter than most."

I shake my head. "He said some awful things about you, but I don't believe any of them. I can judge characters for myself." I'm not sure yet what to think about the Nord, but he seems nice enough. He certainly isn't throwing around any insults.

Nels' mouth twists into a half smile. "That's sweet of you. I wish to confide something in you, friend." Lowering his voice, he leans in slightly, breathing alcohol-scented breath over my face. "I despise Neville and all of his Imperial Legion ilk. They are useless, uncaring tools of corruption!"

I fight back the urge to gag at the stench of his mouth, but he doesn't notice. "Three years ago, my village in Skyrim was attacked by bandits. We went to the nearby Imperial Legion outpost, but they refused to help us! My dear, sweet daughter Olga was killed that day. She was murdered, and the Legion would do _nothing_ to help her." His face contorts into rage. "Neville and his kind are scum."

He is quiet for a very long time, a coldness overcoming his face. I feel as though I am looking into the face of a man who has seen the darkest parts of the Void itself. However, after a moment his features soften. "But Dovesi…Dovesi is the spitting image of my daughter! Her skin is darker, of course, but that sweet face…"

Then perhaps he will enjoy to spend the rest of eternity in the Void with Dovesi. I could poison him easily enough, if only I had something to stick in his mead. I bring myself back to the conversation at hand, running over a mental checklist in my head of the targets I am learning about.

"Can you tell me anything about Primo?" I was hoping for Neville's opinion, but that had ended badly.

"He's just a boy who is young and rich, but I can sense a good person in there somewhere. He just has to get his priorities straight. Heh, you should have seen that old biddy Matilde trying to talk to him. She may be a noble, but he looked down on her like a scullery maid. I told this joke about an Argonian maid before you arrived, and she was horrified." He chuckles to himself before pressing the mouth of the bottle to his lips, ingesting more of the foul fluid.

"Thank you," I curtsey to him, and he nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling from a smile. "I'll talk to you soon. I'm gonna walk around some more."

"Good luck!"

My next investigation includes heading up the stairs to see what is on the third floor. Apparently during my chatting time with Neville, Primo found his way to a spare bedroom. I came across him sitting on the bed, going through a suitcase of his clothes. He looks incredibly out of place among the cozy quilts and soft pillows – I imagine that this is a man who sleeps on a silk bed.

I knock on the door frame so as to scare him suddenly, and the taps catch his interest. He looks up, catching my eye.

"Come in." It isn't a statement – it's a command, and I feel as though he's ordering me about like one of his maids.

"I never got a chance to properly talk to you," I begin. I'm not sure what else to say, really. He is above my class. I feel as though Vicente might get along easily with the higher class, coming from nobility himself, but becoming an assassin is the greatest fortune I will likely ever acquire in my lifetime.

The young man smirks. "Well, here we are. It's funny how money brings people together, don't you think?"

"Agreed." I self-consciously run a hand over my red braid. Now it is time for the questioning and befriending. Discretion is key here. "What do you think of Matilde? Personally, she irks me…"

I didn't originally intend to add the last part, but I found it leaving my lips quickly. It seems to settle somewhat well with Primo, as he makes a humorous gagging noise.

"The old woman? She's quite a pest, really. I think she's gotten it into her head that I need mothering, or something. She is sorely mistaken."

I simply shake my head. "She says she's from a high Breton family, but she certainly doesn't act like it."

The Imperial brightens. "So you noticed? It is true. Honestly, I have servants with more nobility in their blood than her."

"I'm not going to lie to you – I'm no noblewoman. I'm simply taking advantage of an opportunity to feed my family."

He shrugs. "Truthfully, I supposed that was the case. I don't look down on you for it, though." I don't know if I believe him at all, but as long as he treats me respectfully I won't have any reason to choke him with his entrails.

Primo stands up, fixing the fur collar on his coat. He leans against the wardrobe very casually, seeming comfortable to be speaking to me – although it could just be an impatient move, and I _am_ blocking the way to the door.

"What do you think of Dovesi?" I slyly drop her into the conversation. With any luck, there will be at least some affection growing between them. It will make it even more tragic when I slice her throat.

"Can I be honest with you, my friend?" His lips twitch up, and I see the passion forming on his face. Honestly, I can't tell if it is romantic or lustful, as Vicente often gives me such heated looks as to send that familiar wave of desire straight to my core. "I find Dovesi…captivating. She possesses a beauty beyond compare. Maybe you could do me a favor? …Well, I mean I saw you talking to her, and you seem more familiar with her than I am. If you speak to her again, put in a good word for me, would you? I would be forever in your debt."

 _Forever…until you die, that is_ , I add silently in my head. Instead, I say, "I'd love to." Perhaps I could kill them both at the same time while they are at the peak of pleasure…although it'd be too risky.

"Oh thank you!" He grins. "You're much better company than the other half of this party. Nels is a drunk, and he doesn't even try to hide that fact. But what else is he? When the liquor has dried, what remains of the man? He plays the buffoon, but I sense a deep sadness in him. He drinks to forget, I believe."

It seems that Primo has all of the guests pinned down perfectly. As long as he doesn't suspect me of killing everyone, we'll be safe. However, he could prove a very reliable ally until then. Maybe I'll keep him alive as the last target before stabbing him in the back, literally of course.

"What do you think of Neville? He seems to be a soldier weathered by harsh experiences." I choose not to add that he called me a tramp, less Primo suspect me of assassinating him later on.

"I know he's a retired Imperial Legion officer. Apparently he's been in campaigns all across the Empire, from Skyrim to Morrowind. I also get the sense that he's very eager to find the gold. I can't imagine a life of servitude to the Empire left him with much to retire on. He reminds me of the guards under my father's employ. Strict, no non-sense, and ready to fight at a moment's notice."

"Hmmm," I say to myself.

After a moment, Primo stands up straight. "I think I'll find something to eat for dinner. Are you interested?" I hadn't even thought about food. To be truthful, I haven't eaten much since arriving in Skingrad. There's been so much to do. Vicente would be scolding me right now for my neglect if he were here – although the thought of him still brings up his mysterious message from the other night with the Count.

I remember to pull myself out of my thoughts and answer the question. "I'm starving." Together we head back down the stairs and Primo begins to chatter excitedly in hushed tones about the things he finds charming about Dovesi, to which I giggle and nod in the appropriate places, although I admit to being preoccupied with the thought of joyous bloodshed.

Dinner was uneventful. Dovesi decided to cook while Matilde shot angry glances at her back, her eyes flitting distrustfully from her to Primo, the lattering seeming more than pleased of the former's cooking abilities while he spent a great deal of time looking wonderstruck at her. Meanwhile, Nels and Neville sit completely tense, filling the room with an angry energy that left everyone somewhat quiet and reserved.

After dinner, I convince Dovesi to come down with me to the basement to search for the chest of gold. She easily obliges, but I sense it is not for my company but rather the hopes of hearing good news about a certain Imperial as well as to scour for the non-existent chest of gold.

"Oh Zaris, I find your company absolutely pleasurable!" She says as she clings to my arm while we descend the staircase. "Tell me, did you speak to Primo?"

"I did…and he said he likes you! Thinks you're absolutely beautiful." I watch a blush creep over her face, flushing her grey skin with red and she runs her hands through her hair nervously.

"What should I do? Should…should I talk to him? Or, you know? Wait for him in his room?" Her fidgeting becomes distracting as she fumbles with the collar on her dress and rubs her neck and chest like she's too hot.

If she waits for him in his room, then I will have her isolated to kill. She won't suspect it or foresee it coming, nor will anyone point a finger at me when her blood ends up splattered over the tapestries.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea."

"I best be heading off then. Do I look okay?" I nod to her, and she brushes off her dress before heading back upstairs. I could have killed her in the basement, but then I would appear suspicious. No, this is a great plan.

I wait for a while downstairs on the first floor, casually looking through the bookshelf without really reading the titles, but rather listening for footsteps. Many of the guests are already in bed, but Primo is busy digging through a chest across the room. I don't know if he hopes gold will magically appear in it or if he is looking for a trap door of some sort. Whatever it is, his search is in vain.

I quietly slip up the stairs onto the second floor, where Nels is busy drinking at a table, his head lolling over as he falls asleep, his eyelids drooping. I dart past him on silent toes and up the next stairwell.

The door to the room Primo is staying in is ajar and light slips through, flooding the hallway. I peek in to see Dovesi sitting on the bed, looking over a book. Noiselessly, I slip in and shut the door.

The click of the door makes her lift her head. She looks scared until she sees me. "Oh, it's you. Is Primo coming up here?"

"Soon, he told me he'd be right up." I step closer to her. "What are you reading?" I try to keep my voice hushed just in case.

"Here, have a look." She hands the book to me, and I glance at it before sitting next to her on the bed.

"I'm afraid I forgot my glasses and cannot see it clearly," The lie rolls off of my tongue like butter, and Dovesi smiles sweetly. "Could you read me a passage?"

She takes the book from my hands and opens to a new chapter, clearing her throat, unaware that I simply want her distracted. I reach into my sleeve and discreetly pull out the dagger, holding it out of her eyeshot.

As she pauses before starting a new sentence, I grab her by the hair and slice the blade across her throat, relishing the view as the skin splits before pushing her into the quilt to prevent her blood from splattering over my dress. I wipe it clean on the linen before leaving calmly, no footsteps to be heard as I walk – an invaluable skill as an assassin.

The hallway is clear when I exit, and I enter the room I am staying in, where Matilde is fast asleep. I pull off my dress and put on a nightgown before burying myself into a cushy bed, tucking the sheathed dagger into my bra band.

I intend to stay awake to listen for the screams when she is discovered, but instead I drift off to sleep, the effects of two long days of exhaustion taking over.

* * *

My rest is cut short when I'm jolted out of sleep by startled shouting and shrieks.

"Wake up, dearie!" Hands grab my shoulders and shake me, and I crack open my eyes wearily to see Matilde. "Someone has been murdered!"

Instantly I'm awake, my body rushing with adrenaline. I snatch up my gown from the floor and pull it over my night clothes, following everyone else to Primo's room where they gaze upon my handiwork.

Primo is standing there looking completely dazed, his eyes glassed over. He can't remove his gaze from her cold corpse, staring at her with the horrified face of a man who has seen Oblivion.

Matilde bursts out crying and I suppress a mental eye roll. She _barely_ knew the girl – disliked her, even – and at the sight of some blood has a mental breakdown. Are all people this way?

Neville shoves his way to the front, standing over Dovesi's still body. "A guest has been murdered. So it begins. You all mark my words – this entire party is a trap. Someone among us wants us all dead, and now they have their chance."

"Nobody is safe. Nobody. Stick together, and we'll be out of here in no time." The Redguard nods to the group, his face set in determination. A soldier is dangerous, but I'm deadly.

Time to take down the next target.

* * *

**To be continued next chapter!**


	17. Author's Note and New Beginnings

**A/N:** I wrote Blood That Binds on January 23rd, 2013, and since then it has been a year and a half. With over 10,000 views, 41 reviews, and 70,000+ words, I'm pleased to say that it went farther than I ever expected.

However, I also realize that a great deal of you have favourited/followed this story, and asked me in the past to update it. I'm releasing this author's note and chapter section as a part of Blood That Binds so any of you who keep checking this story will know it wasn't abandoned.

I stopped writing as frequently because my writing style changed, but I didn't want to sudden begin writing in a different manner when I was already 15+ chapters in. In the year that I wrote her, Zarissis as a character changed immensely, and without the proper character building, I could not reflect that in my writing.

Therefore, Blood That Binds has been rewritten in an improved and more developed version, still in progress, called _Fear Not The Night_. I would ask that anyone who likes this story to _please_ take a look at it, as it is a source of pride and I'm far happier with the chemistry that is developing between the characters. It isn't totally different, but you will notice some changes in the behaviors of Zarissis, as well as her back story. I've included an excerpt as a way to finally wrap up the rest of Blood That Binds:

* * *

Zarissis sighed and blew a strand of red hair from her eyes before grunting unwillingly. She was never really certain what women found attractive about binding their bodies with corsets, yet here she was, arms splayed outwards as her mother viciously tore at the laces on the death-trap, her ribs threatening to burst.

The only valid reason she had for wearing the damn thing was because oh dear _Tristeran_ was coming to visit. More specifically, he was taking her out to dinner. This was the man her mother had painstakingly picked out for her to marry. _"You'll bring honor on the family,"_ she had said.

 _Honor_. Yeah, right. Zarissis could hardly imagine how much honor she'd bring married to a man who couldn't lift a spoon to his mouth without spilling the entire contents of his bowl over his shirt and lap, not to mention that he was simply the _dullest_ human being she ever had the discomfort of being in the same room with. If he wasn't talking about ale and drinking, he was boasting over his father's income and the recent profit his father made as a blacksmith. Smithing in itself is an honorable trade, and one Zarissis respected greatly; however, Tristeran did not have the talents nor the interests of a smith, and instead chose to boast only over money and expensive furnishings. Zarissis wasn't certain if he even possessed any talents.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of the whole situation was that her marriage was arranged, yet Zarissis's mother had married for love. In fact, she loved the man so much she _dishonored_ her family and married several classes below herself, from a noblewoman to a simple merchant's wife. Her family had disowned her, but Zarissis supposed the price must have been worth it, given that she was here. Yet somehow, Zarissis sometimes doubted her mother's love for her father. Occasionally, the woman scowled at him like he was the most despicable human being she'd ever seen, only to be replaced with a friendly and loving gaze a few moments later. It had puzzled the girl most of her life.

Though it was possible that the woman did _not_ marry for love. Rather than bearing her father's family name, Zarissis was given her mother's family name. She had assumed that she was born out of wedlock, her mother giving birth before the two were married, although the older she got the more she began to question whether he was truly even her father. His hair was platinum blonde, her mother's a dingy brown, yet Zarissis had hair the color of a roaring fire, regularly kept in a long and unusually thick braid that dangled over her shoulder. Maybe Zarissis was actually the bastard child to another man, and her mother's marriage to her father was merely an act to cover up her sin.

She frowned. Even if that was the case, Zarissis resented that she was expected to accept an arranged marriage. She doubted she even wanted to be a wife and mother at all. There was so much of the world to see, so many adventures to experience. Perhaps she wanted to be a mage and study at the Arcane University – she was a Breton, magic was in her blood – or perhaps she wished to join the Fighter's Guild and be a fearsome warrior, maybe even try her hand at Arena. She had read in a book about the Bloodworks beneath the Arena and how men's blood had flowed for so long down its floors that the area was permanently stained red. An illustration had accompanied the description, and the gore had horrified Zarissis so much that she had to close it. However, curiosity overcame her, and every night for a week she turned back to that page to gaze over the scene. It made her pulse quicken to imagine herself there, among the carnage, the fantasy far more entertaining than she expected. Afterwards, her face would burn with shame knowing that the idea excited her. It was wrong and immoral to delight in bloodlust – thus was as Zarissis had been taught.

But had not men killed for love, for joy, for anger, and for the thrill of the chase for centuries? If it was so wrong, then why did so many succumb to it? Why did men go to war for their countries, and why was Arena such a widely accepted and treasured sport?

Zarissis frowned as her mother tightened the last of the laces on her corset. It would never be her place to know or understand the meaning of war and death – her place in society was set. She was to marry a man of her class, bear children, and raise them to be good little daughters and sons.

She slipped her arms into the dull green dress as her mother pulled it over her head, clasping the buttons together in the front. It was dirty and worn, being one of the only nice dresses she owned.

"There, don't you just look darling?" Her mother smoothed her hair down and stepped aside to give Zarissis a view of the mirror.

"I look the same as I always look," she deadpanned, "only wearing a dirty green dress waiting to have dinner with an idiot."

The woman slapped her arm, a menacing glare spreading over her face. "Zarissis, I have gone through all the trouble to find the right husband for you! You scared the last three suitors off; you _will_ behave yourself this time."

Zarissis felt the last three were less despicable than the current.

"My daughter, my _only_ daughter is twenty years old and still unmarried! Most women your age are already wives with children!" She threw her hands in the air while she railed, walking over to the other side of the bedroom to grab a ribbon for her daughter's hair. "Soon you'll be old and fat and no man will want you then. What will you do then, huh?" Her spindly hands seized the braid, resulting in a pained cry from Zarissis. Her fingers deftly laced the green ribbon around the braid in a crisscross pattern before tying it in a perfect bow.

The little redhead merely sighed under her breath, not willing to prolong the rant. The quicker the day could end, the better. She would really prefer nothing more than to curl up in bed with a book and put aside all this meaningless nonsense with suitors for another time.

From the other room, someone banged on the front door with a heavy fist. Her mother's head perked up, eyes glittering, before darting off to let the man in. That would certainly be Tristeran, and despite the fact that Zarissis relished the opportunities to be taken to eat with food that wasn't burnt by her mother, she wasn't too happy to see the man her mother intended her to be with.

It was going to be a _very_ long night.


End file.
